


That hopeful feeling

by oceantears



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Angst, Asexual Aziraphale, Asexual Aziraphale (Good Omens), Asexual Character, Asexual Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, No Sex, No Smut, No non-con between them, Not Canon Compliant, Not between Aziraphale and Crowley, Past Sexual Abuse, Past Sexual Assault, Recovery, Slave Crowley, Slavery, Slow Burn, Trauma, Traumatised Crowley, Wing Grooming, it gets better though, past sexual slavery, tw: sexual abuse (past)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-14
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2020-05-07 18:33:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 14
Words: 77,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19215148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oceantears/pseuds/oceantears
Summary: There was a demon sitting in his flat. Because apparently, Aziraphale now owned said demon.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! My first Good Omens fanfic! (Most of the others on this account are by my friend ^^)  
> English is not my first language, please correct my mistakes.  
> Warning: talk of past sexual abuse/non-con/forced sex, general past abuse.  
> No abuse happens between Aziraphale and Crowley though.
> 
> I'm not quite sure if I wanna continue this fic or not, so please tell me whether you want more! (I'm thinking of a chapter with Crowleys POV...)  
> (But I also might delete this later on, I'm not quite happy with it and I've never written something like it before)
> 
>  
> 
> The title is from Hozier's "Be"

There was a demon sitting in his flat, a dirty, frightened, not at all demon-like demon.  
Because apparently, Aziraphale now owned said demon.

If someone had asked him why, he probably wouldn't have been able to give a satisfactory explanation, seeing as _there was no satisfactory explanation._  
The closest thing to an explanation was probably that Aziraphale had done something which Heaven saw as a Very Good Deed and they had wanted to reward him. And apparently, Heaven's idea of a sufficient award was not a lovely meal (which Aziraphale would definitely have preferred) but rather something more akin to a butler. Or slave, really, which was what Gabriel had called the demon, amongst other terribly rude names. Such as plaything or personal amusement, for example.

Aziraphale had listened to the archangel with a pleasant smile on his face and a terrible nausea in his stomach.  
The demon had just kneeled behind Gabriel quietly and had stared at the floor with a look of utter shame and terror on his face.  
Had it been appropiate in any way, Aziraphale would have puked on Gabriel's shoes.

After an excruciating amount of detail what the demon could be used for, as well as a short introduction on how Heaven had even got his hands on one, Gabriel had finally bid the both of them farewell with a sickeningly sweet smile.

And here they were now, in Aziraphale's bookshop. Aziraphale was standing close to the wall, still feeling slightly nauseous and the demon was kneeling on the floor, refusing to look up at him. His breath came in short, panicked gasps and he looked terrified - an emotion Aziraphale could see clearly, even though the demon's eyes were closed tightly and had been so since they had arrived in Aziraphale's bookshop.

The angel sighed, willed his nausea away and crouched down next to the demon. Crowley (for Gabriel had been so kind as to tell Aziraphale the name of his new... acquaintance) stiffened and his aura, which had been an ugly mess of shame and fear, turned into something closer to panic.  
Aziraphale, who had raised his hand to softly pat Crowley on the shoulder, stopped. His heart clenched and he moved a bit further away from the demon. What had the angels in Heaven _done_ to him?  
No, he would rather not have that question answered. After having heard what Gabriel had proposed Aziraphale himself do to this demon, the angel had a pretty good idea of the terrors Crowley must have gone through.

The angel sighed and ran a hand through his hair, prompting a slight wince from the demon.  
Aziraphale straightened and forced the nausea to stay at bay.  
If he wanted to reassure and keep the demon safe, he would have to do something else than just sit here and feel ill. Therefore, he cleared his throat softly and asked:

"What's your name? I mean, I was told that you're called Crowley, but are you fine with me calling you that?"

After the words had left his mouth, Aziraphale cursed himself quietly. This couldn't have been more awkward if he'd tried.

Crowley, however, seemed to be at edge after Aziraphale's words. His eyes had opened up a little and the angel could see long, slit black pupils in the middle of yellow, other-worldly eyes.

Huh. Apparently, no one had deemed it necessary to tell him that this was _Crowley_ , the very same who had tempted Eve to eat the forbidden fruit all those years ago.

Aziraphale shrugged the thought off and concentrated on Crowley again. He really should keep his attention focussed on him, to try and help the frightened demon. A frightened demon... The angel shook his head decisively. No matter how unusual the circumstances were, he had to concentrate, for Someone's sake!

Crowley, who had been quiet during Aziraphale's internal struggle, looked slightly surprised and suspicious. As he saw that the angel was watching him again, he ducked his head and murmured something, too quiet for Aziraphale to understand.

"What was that?"

Crowley spoke again, a little louder this time, but his stare was still firmly fixed on the floor.

"Crowley is fine, Master."

A cold shiver ran through Aziraphale. Master. Dear Heavens, what had the angels done to that poor demon?  
He forced his tone to be light as he spoke, in order to avoid frightening Crowley more than he already had.

"Crowley it is, then. And please, don't call me master. Just Aziraphale will be fine, dear."

Crowley's shoulders tensed the slightest bit and he threw a suspicious glance at the angel, who merely smiled softly.  
Then, the demon nodded, a quick, jerky movement.  
"Alright then," said Aziraphale and made to get up, "then let's move somewhere more comfortable, shall we?"

He waited until the next meek nod came and turned to go to the kitchen. He wanted to miracle some food into his bookshop. Of course neither he nor Crowley _needed_ to eat, but he thought that some food would do the demon good. After all, Aziraphale couldn't imagine that those bastards of archangels had given the poor Crowley much to eat.

Aziraphale turned to ask the demon in question what exactly he wanted to eat, but faltered as he saw what Crowley was doing. The other had not stood up to follow, as Aziraphale had assumed, but was slowly sliding on his knees to the kitchen, an utterly humiliated look on his face.  
As he noticed the angel watching him, Crowley stopped abruptly, eyes turned towards the floor and fists clenched in his lap. His breath came in short, laboured gasps.

Aziraphale closed his eyes briefly and wished that he had the power to send Gabriel to Hell.

Then he breathed in deeply, trying to steady himself. "You needn't kneel," he said softly, heart aching at Crowley's wary look. "You can walk, my dear, you know? You can also sit on the furniture and such, please don't kneel on the floor", he added as an afterthought, not knowing if the demon was aware of that.

Crowley looked at Aziraphale for a few long moments, and the angel gave his best reassuring smile. Then, the demon rose slowly, still watching Aziraphale suspiciously, his aura full of distrust. Aziraphale hoped that his smile didn't look too much like a grimace.  
He nodded encouragingly as Crowley finally stood and he resumed his walk to the kitchen, this time hearing the demon's soft footsteps behind him.

Once in the kitchen, a new problem presented itself: The demon did not know what he wanted to eat.  
Or rather, he answered each and every of Aziraphale's suggestions with a demure nod and a "If you'd like so".  
Neither of those were helpful and Aziraphale began to become a little frustrated. Undoubtedly, Crowley felt it in his aura, for he started looking around nervously and hunching in on himself.  
Aziraphale took a few calming breaths and decided that he'd just choose for the demon. He knew that he probably hadn't eaten in a long time, because really, why would he? It was not neccessary for occult and ethereal beings and Aziraphale doubted that Gabriel or another archangel had fed Crowley during his time in Heaven.  
His time in Heaven... Aziraphale shuddered just from thinking about what the demon must have suffered Up There.

In the end, he decided that some bread with butter and a side dish of vegetables and fruits would probably be for the best, as he did not want to upset the demon's stomach with too much food he wasn't used to.

He ushered Crowley in the chair at the table, where he sat rather stiffly, seemingly unsure of what to do. Aziraphale miracled the food and two glasses of water onto the table and sat down opposite to Crowley. He indicated that Crowley could start eating and began taking bread and various fruits for himself.  
Crowley was more hesitant - he only took a few grapes and strawberries and put them on his plate carefully, looking at Aziraphale with some distress.  
Aziraphale smiled encouragingly and the demon hesitantly took a small bite of a strawberry, juice dripping on the plate. Crowley finished the fruit slowly, looking at Aziraphale every few seconds as if he feared that the food would be taken away from him any moment.

Eventually, they had both finished their meal - Crowley's merely consisting of strawberries and grapes - and Aziraphale rose, ready to miracle the dishes away. Crowley dropped his gaze as the plates disappeared and Aziraphale felt a shift in his mood. His aura, which had been grateful but otherwise kept carefully neutral during their meal, was now laced with fear, shame and disgust as well as some sort of terrified... expectation?

Aziraphale did not know what could have provoked that kind of shift, but he didn't dare ask the demon, partially because he did not think he'd get an answer and partially because he feared what the answer would be, were he actually to receive one.  
Instead, he simply walked into the living room, which was littered with books, and sat down on his old sofa, ready to relax with a good book. He was sure he'd also find a book the demon would enjoy, maybe some first editions-  
His train of thought was interrupted as he felt a hand at the zipper of his trousers.

He startled, lost his balance and nearly kicked Crowley in the face in an attempt to regain his balance.  
Crowley, who was kneeling in the floor again, his face white and eyes blown huge, flinched. His hands, which still rested on Aziraphale's legs, trembled.

Aziraphale sat back hastily, drew his knees up to his chest and stared at Crowley in horror.  
The demon looked as if he had just been slapped. By now, his whole body trembled and his aura had turned into one full of distress and fear. He opened his mouth, but at first, no words came out.  
And when they did, Aziraphale wished Crowley wouldn't have said them.

"I, I'm sorry Mas- Aziraphale. I just thought I'd- I  
just wanted to thank you because you were so generous and let me eat, I'm sorry, I didn't..." He took a sharp, steadying breath. "I didn't know you'd be disgusted by me, Gabriel said... Gabriel said that I should continue thanking angels this way. Do you- Do you want me somehow else, should I-"

Aziraphale's blood had run cold. His hands were clenched to fists and his nails were digging into his palms painfully.  
Crowley's words repeated themselves over and over in his head _"Gabriel said that I should continue thanking angels this way"_. Aziraphale wanted to scream but knew that he couldn't. Not right now, not with a terrified demon kneeling in front of him.

Instead of excusing himself to the bathroom or flying to Heaven in order to give the angels Up There a piece of his mind like he wanted to, he slowly, carefully lowered himself on the floor, sitting in some distance to Crowley.

The demon had gone rigid as soon as Aziraphale had started moving and was refusing to meet his eyes. He had begun trembling again.

Aziraphale closed his eyes and hoped that neither his voice nor his aura betrayed the anger he felt, for he did not want to upset the demon.

"Gabriel was wrong. I do not want that sort of thanks, nor do I want any other version of _this_. A simple 'Thank you' is definitely enough, my dear." Aziraphale breathed out slowly. He felt the anger swell up in him again and tried his best to squash it. The last thing the traumatised demon needed right now was feeling the angel's anger, for he would surely assume that it was meant for him. 

Therefore, Aziraphale took a few steadying breaths before continuing.

"I will not use you for any of that. Sex and such are not my field, and especially not if it is forced. Gabriel had no right to do that to you and he should be punished for his crime by Falling."

At that, Crowley sucked in a sharp breath, though it was hard to say whether it was because of the mention of Gabriel's name or the mention of the Fall.  
Either way, Crowley's shoulders relaxed a little and he moved his head in a motion that could only be called a nod if one possessed a lot of imagination.

The demon's aura, however was still full of distrust and fear, if slightly less so that five minutes ago.  
Aziraphale sighed. He knew that would not change too soon, seeing as Crowley was obviously expecting cruelty and punishment.

Aziraphale had no idea how to assure the demon that he was nothing like Gabriel and the others who had abused him, that he would not harm him. He only knew it would take a lot if time and continuous effort.

With another sigh, the angel rose, softly pulling Crowley with him. He kept close to him as he went back to the kitchen, looking to make tea for the both of them the human way, hoping that it would soothe the frightened demon a little.

It would definitely take a lot of time and effort to help the demon heal, thought Aziraphale as he saw Crowley standing in his kitchen, looking lost and frightened.

But then again, he mused as he made his way over to him, he had never been one to back away from a challenge.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so so much for your incredible support! I did not expect that much love for this story.  
> You all motivated me to write at least one more chapter, with a bit of Crowley's POV mixed in. I'm still not sure if and how I'll continue but your support motivated me enough to write this, and I don't think I'll delete the story.
> 
> I do hope you enjoy it and thank all of you lovely people who commented on the last chapter, I can't believe that you liked it that much! I hope this one is satisfactory. :)  
> Thank you!!!
> 
> -
> 
> Warnings: Mention of past rape/non-con, slight victim-blaming and general abuse.
> 
> Stay safe!

Crowley was curled up in a bed.

 

This was an unusual occurence since normally, he didn't sleep, especially not in beds, wasn't allowed to sleep, would be punished if he slept, punished, punished...

But his new Mas-  
But _Aziraphale_ had permitted him to rest without specifying for how long or what he expected from Crowley in return.  
Crowley had wished for a hint, had wished for a sign, anything that would tell him what would be expected of him when he left the bedroom, but it had been futile.  
Mas- Aziraphale had simply pet his head (and Crowley still didn't know why, was it supposed to be condescending?) and had told him that he wanted nothing of him.

Ha.

As if that ever were true. Crowley had learned that angels always wanted something from him, and most of the time they wanted to see him hurt, or beg and plead in utter humiliation, mixed with terror.  
Gabriel had wanted it that way, at least.  
But Gabriel was gone now, and Crowley was with someone else, someone new.

Someone, who had been kind so far, had allowed him to eat (which had been wonderful even if he didn't need it) and had rejected his way of saying thank you.  
But that didn't mean anything, Crowley knew that. Just because Aziraphale seemed to be nice so far, it did not ensure that he wouldn't change the next day. Or now, _tonight_ , it didn't mean that Aziraphale wouldn't come into the bedroom right now and lay down beside Crowley and, and...

Crowley dug his nails into his palms in an attempt to stop his thoughts.  
It was of no use, this way of thinking. What would come, would come and he had neither the power nor the right to stop that. He had learned that lesson a long time ago. And since then, Gabriel had made sure in various ways that he wouldn't forget it.

Crowley curled in on himself and willed the thoughts to go away.  
He had this bed now, and whether it would be used for something else than sleeping or not, was not his decision. He should just try and get some rest, as long as it was still possible. 

With that thought, Crowley closed his eyes and forced his breath to even out.  
And in the dark of this strange bedroom with an angel lurking just around the corner, Crowley regretted deeply that he did not have a God anymore who he could pray to.

 

***

 

The tea, which Aziraphale had prepared four days ago, had slowly begun to mould.  
It didn't matter. He could always prepare a fresh cup of tea for his new... demon.  
For Crowley.

Crowley had been asleep for four days and by now, Aziraphale was beginning to get worried.  
He knew that most demons didn't sleep but was aware of the fact that Crowley was probably exhausted and his body needed the rest, but Aziraphale simply could not stop worrying. What if the demon wasn't asleep at all but merely hiding from him, afraid of what Aziraphale might do?  
Thoughts such as this had been tormenting him for the past few days and the angel could barely stand them anymore. 

He got up from the sofa he'd been lying on and made his way to the kitchen to brew more tea for the demon. Aziraphale had decided that he'd wake Crowley as soon as the tea was ready, to try and get to know him a little better.  
After all, what harm could it do?

Apparently a lot.

Aziraphale had just opened the door, letting a soft ray of light in his spare bedroom, as Crowley awoke.  
The demon seemed to have been sleeping up until then but now, hit by the light and filled with sudden terror of the angel standing in his doorway, he rolled out of bed in a very uncomfortable-looking matter, as quckily as possible.  
As soon as Crowley had rid himself of the blanket, he dropped to the floor, onto his knees and refused to look up at Aziraphale. The demon kept his head bowed and his hands clenched to fists behind his back.

The angel, who had witnessed this spectacle with horror, could do little else but stand in the doorway and stare at the demon for a few seconds.

Small tremors made their way down Crowley's back and he screwed up his eyes, filled with terror.  
He'd slept! In fact, he had _overslept_ and now the angel had surely come to punish him for being so lazy, for ever assuming that it was his place to rest, for even _thinking_ that he had been allowed onto the bed. The bed. Oh, the bed.

Had Crowley not learned to stay quiet until he was asked to speak, he would have let out an ugly laugh.  
How stupid had he been, thinking that the angel had sent him to the bedroom in order to sleep? _Of course_ would the bed be used for... something else.  
After all, why should he, Crowley ever be allowed onto a bed if not for the purpose of being used? 

Dread filled the demon's stomach. His Master had probably sent him here in order to prepare sufficiently and he had misunderstood completely. He had _slept_ , for Someone's sake and he didn't even know how long!  
He didn't even want to know. 

And here he was, still tired but panicked, unpresentable and absolutely unprepared. His heart was racing and his hands were sweating and the angel was still standing in the doorway, Crowely could feel his eyes on him. 

He lowered his face to the floor, making himself appear smaller than he was, hoping his Master would see it as the attempted (if pathetic) apology that it was. 

Aziraphale sucked in a harsh breath as he saw Crowley cowering on the floor. The demon still had his hands clasped behind his back and his knuckles were white from the force with which he tried to suppress their trembling.

Aziraphle put the tea on the floor very, very slowly. Obviously Crowley was still afraid of him and feared that he'd be punished for something. What exactly was unfathomable for Aziraphale, but in the end, it didn't matter. What mattered was that he needed to reassure his demon, if possible without scaring him even further. The angel took a hesitant step towards Crowley and the demon stiffened, his breath picking up in speed. 

"Uh," started Aziraphale unintelligently and made to sit down in a respectable distance from Crowley. "Are you okay? I'm not mad dear, if that's what's bothering you." 

The demon didn't reply and Aziraphale felt helpless. What could he do beside try and reassure him? 

"Do you feel better? You slept for four days, so I hope that you feel at least somewhat relaxed. Not that sleeping that long was wrong or anything!", he added quickly as he heard Crowley emit a quiet whimper. "I'm quite glad, really, it means that you, well, that you might be more fit today, doesn't it? Not that you have to be fit or anything, and I'd be just as happy to let you sleep for longer if you want to.But uh, I brought you tea. Do you want it?" 

He pushed the cup a little closer to Crowley, who had lifted his head ever so slightly. Aziraphale smiled encouragingly at the demon, hoping that he'd sit up normally.

And indeed - Crowely slowly pushed himself off of the floor until he finally sat cross-legged, facing Aziraphale.  
Not that he looked up at him, no, but seeing him sit was enough for now. Aziraphale attempted a smile and pointed at the tea.  
"Here. You can drink it if you want to. It's black tea with milk, I hope you'll like it."

Crowley nodded mutely and took the cup, tasting the tea.  
Aziraphale, who had brought it to the demon while it was still hot, knew that he must be burning his tongue and quickly performed a small miracle, which should bring the tea down to perfect drinking-temperature.  
If Crowley noticed, he didn't say so, merely hunched in on himself a bit, and drank the tea hastily, refusing to look up at Aziraphale.  
As soon as he had finished it, he sat the cup down on the floor and bowed his head.  
His voice was almost inaudible as he spoke.

"Thank you, Ma- Sorry, I-", he took a quick breath before he started again: "Thank you. That was very kind of you."

He stopped again, his fingers picking at the soft carpet beneath his fingers.  
Aziraphale waited patiently.  
Crowley gave a jerky nod to the bed behind him.  
"Should I, how would you like me to thank you? I have not prepared myself, but I could..."

Crowley faltered as he felt Aziraphale's previously patient aura shift to dismay and disgust.  
This reaction was not what he had expected. He had expected the angel to be eager to take him, probably brutally, as punishment for sleeping.  
But then again...  
Hadn't the angel said just the other day that he didn't want Crowley that way?  
Oh no. Dread settled in Crowley's stomach and he swallowed heavily.

He had gone and offered! He had offered something which he had no right to offer because his Master could take it either way. But even worse than that, he had offered when Master had explicitly told him that he didn't want him that way. And Crowley had forgotten, had assumed, had been a fool.  
He would be punished for his foolishness, doubtlessly.  
He tightened the grip on his own hands, but it was to no use - the terror of the impending punishment made him shake all over.

After all, he didn't know how exactly he'd be reminded of his place.  
Gabriel had been very... creative in this regard. Crowley could not recount just how many different methods of punishment the archangel had used during the years he'd been Crowley's Master.  
But he did remember that the Grace had been one of the archangels' favourites, next to inviting friends over to take turns or him simply using Crowley himself, brutally.

Crowley had despised and feared each and every method but the Grace had been one if the cruellest punishments. Not only did it hurt and burn so much that he could do nothing but scream and wish for anything to end his agony, no, it also was a terrible reminder of what he'd once been, before the Fall. A reminder that the angels held so much power over him, power he himself had had once, power that was now used against him. Power, which his new Master held as well.

Actually, Mas- Aziraphale using his Grace was not at all a far-fetched idea. Crowley knew for a fact that the angel possessed it and Crowley assumed that he also knew how to use it for punishment. And even if he didn't, well, it wasn't that hard to figure out. And using more severe methods of punishment early on could potentially stop him from acting up again, Crowley reasoned.  
He clenched his teeth and willed the tears, which were threatening to spill from his eyes, away.  
Worrying about it was useless - he'd have to take whatever Aziraphale had to give, there was no way out.  
Not for him.

Aziraphale had listened to Crowley's offer with terror and growing anger directed at Gabriel.

What had that _bastard_ done to poor Crowley?  
Aziraphale's hands tightened their grip on the carpet subconsciously, much like Crowley had done minutes ago.

If he he'd been able, he would have gone up to Heaven and tear that place down. He'd take everything Gabriel loved and burn it, he'd avenge Crowley-

Crowley, who was cowering before him, sweating and shaking with terror.  
Aziraphale was abruptly snapped out of his anger as he saw the demon in front of him, saw how close he was to crying in fear. Fear of him, Aziraphale.  
The angel cursed himsef. What had he been thinking, letting his anger seep into his aura?  
Crowley must have felt it and assumed that he was angry at him, the poor boy must be out of his mind with terror.  
Aziraphale sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Then he said, as calmly as he could manage:

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have frightened you, please be assured that I'm not angry at you, not at all. You did nothing wrong. In fact, I'm very pleased that you slept and-" 

He stopped for a moment, gathering his thoughts.

"I do not wished to be thanked for that. I will not take you or hurt you, in any way, and you do not have to 'prepare yourself for me'. I would not, I will not sleep with you. Take you. However you want to call it, I won't do it. It would be disgusting and wrong, and I would never hurt anyone in that way."

Aziraphale looked down at the demon. Crowley did not, as he had hoped, look more relaxed after the angel's words.  
Instead, he appeared to not even have heard them properly, if the way his shoulders were still shaking and his face was white with terror were any indicator.

Aziraphale raised his hand to touch the demons shoulder and hesitated. It probably wasn't a good idea to touch him in this state. Instead, he spoke softly but with some force to his tone, hoping the demon would react.

"Crowley, look at me."  
It worked. The demon looked up sharply and focussed his gaze on the angel.  
His eyes cleared a bit from the terror and he nodded almost imperceptibly.

Aziraphale gave him a kind smile.  
"I promise, I'm not mad. I will not hurt, punish or take you. I swear on my angelic Grace. I will not harm you in any way, you're absolutely safe with me. Do you understand?"

The demon, who had relaxed slightly at first and then a bit more at the mention of Aziraphale's vow, nodded once.

Aziraphale smiled again and stood up, asking Crowley to do the same.  
They needed to leave the bedroom - obviously it held to many expectations and terrified Crowley.  
And they also needed to work some things out, thought Aziraphale, as the both of them slowly made their way to the living room.

\- - 

"So," said the angel as soon as they had both settled into a chair each, keeping his voice friendly and soft, "I have got a few questions I'd like you to answer. Is that okay?"  
He waited until Crowley - who seemed to be in a clearer state of mind than earlier - nodded before he continued. 

"I'll ask you some things and in return I'd wish for you to ask me as well whenever you've got a question, or tell me when you're uncomfortable, yes?"  
Crowley nodded again, slightly stronger than before and Aziraphale spoke again. 

"Thank you, my dear. Well, my first question is quite an obvious one. Did you sleep well?" 

Judging from Crowley's face, the question had not been as obvious as Aziraphale had thought it to be, but the demon nodded anyway.  


"I slept well, thank you, Master. Thank you for letting me rest."  
He ducked his head as soon as he had finished speaking and Aziraphale closed his eyes for a brief moment.  


There was that cursed word again - Master. He wished Crowley had not used it but knew that it would only frighten the demon if he were to point it out.  
Instead, he continued. 

"That's good to hear. Please, in the future you may rest whenever and for how long you wish. I promise I will not punish you for it." 

Aziraphale thought that slowly, he was beginning to understand what Crowley expected from him - cruelty and punishments for any wrongdoings or actions that he perceived as such. And the angel was determined to prove the demon that he did not have to expect anything but kindness from him. 

"Please do tell me what was going through your head when I entered the bedroom, my dear boy. I was not trying to scare you and I would like to avoid misunderstandings such as this in the future." 

Crowley tensed a little, seemingly uncertain if this was some sort of test. Nevertheless, he answered, if rather shortly and with a quiver to his voice. Crowley stopped for a second before pulling himself back together. 

"I wanted to thank you for being so generous to me and of course I know that you... that you can use me any way you wish but I thought that maybe, if I showed initiative..." 

Crowley's voice had gotten more and more quiet towards the end until it was nearly inaudible.  
His eyes were darting around the room and he seemed tense but at least he had not started trembling again. Aziraphale himself had also tensed up a little and fought to keep the nausesa away.  


Of course he had known that Crowley had expected him to harm him, but hearing the demon voice it had still filled the angel with disgust and shock. Crowley, on the other had, seemed humiliated and exhausted and Aziraphale promised himself to keep this torturous talk as short as possible. 

\- 

Crowley _was_ tired and exhausted. Not a single on of the things Master had said and was still saying, made any sense. 

Never to be punished? Never to be taken? He knew that this couldn't be true, was too good to be true. He knew that, no matter what the angel was promising him now, it was too good to last.  
There was no mercy, not for Crowley. And with time, Aziraphale would realise that, too. 

He listened as the angel explained that he would not force himself onto Crowley, that he would not punish him, would not harm him. Crowley simply sat and nodded as it seemed to please his Master. 

But he knew, _he knew_ that it had to be lies. There was no mercy, not between angels and demons, he had learned that lesson a long time ago. 

There was no mercy, not for him. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few misunderstanding, Crowley's fears and Aziraphale's confusion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! You're all too kind!!! Thank you so so so so much for all your awesome comments, I love and cherish every single one of them and they motivate me!
> 
> I hope the chapter is not too boring, seeing as it is so similar to the second one. But I simply really want to showcase just how Crowley is traumatised from his time with Gabriel and since it can be incredibly hard to overcome that, Crowley does have a few setbacks.
> 
>  
> 
> Have fun!!! :)  
> (And thank every single one of you!!! <3)

Crowley had come up with a plan.  
It had been a week since their Talk, as Crowley referred to it in his mind, and slowly, he had begun to feel more at ease in the angel's flat. Bookshop. Whatever it was.

So far, Aziraphale had been respectful and mindful, had not pressured the demon and had even allowed him to eat more of his food.  
Crowley couldn't make sense of it.  
By now, he had understood that Aziraphale was not the same as his previous Masters had been and most certainly not the same as Gabriel.  
But that didn't explain much, didn't even begin to explain what exactly the angel was like. 

Merciful was the word Crowley would have used but deep down he knew that it couldn't be true. The angel was his Master after all and Masters never were merciful. It just didn't happen - that was why they were Masters. They held power over him and in his experience, no one would ever use that power to do good, only to harm him.  
Even if Aziraphale pretended like he was kind, like he did not own Crowley, the demon knew that it was all a ruse.  
Yes, maybe Aziraphale really did not want sexual favours of him, maybe he really did not want to use Crowley, but even if that was not what he was after, there were other ways in which he could harm him.

But maybe, Aziraphale had simply no idea just how far his power over Crowley reached. It was possible that that was why he was still nice and kind and had not attempted to actually hurt the demon yet.  
Still, even if it were the case, it was easy for the angel to find out just how much he could allow himself to do to Crowley _(everything, the answer was everything, Aziraphale could hurt Crowley im every way possible and he'd be unable to stop it)_ by just reading the contract.

The contract that clearly stated that Crowley was legally Aziraphale's property, was his to use as he pleased. Aziraphale had gotten the contract, Crowley knew that every new Master of his got it one way or another. In Aziraphale's case, Gabriel had miracled it in the other angel's coat pocket without Aziraphale noticing. Then, he and Crowley had gone to the bookshop, the angel still unaware of the sheet of paper in his coat.  
But afterwards? 

As far as Crowley knew, Aziraphale had simply discarded the coat somewhere as soon as they had arrived at the bookshop. It had confused Crowley a little, but that confusion had soon been forgotten, overshadowed by terror at having a new Master, one he could not asses in the slightest.  
And after Crowley had woken from his sleep, he had been too panicked at having slept for too long to think of the contract. But apparently, after everything had seemed to work out in his favour (which Crowley still could not understand, because there was no way he had avoided punishment, they always came for him later, always, always, always), Aziraphale had forgotten about the contract as well.

And Crowley would do everything to keep it that way, which was why he had thought up a plan.  
He'd do his best to ensure that Aziraphale forgot that the coat with his contract even _existed_. As far as he knew, his new Master had not read it and did not know what exactly he could do to Crowley. And as long as he didn't check, Crowley was safe from some more brutal punishments, ones that should be illegal, but weren't, not in his situation. Gabriel had taken great pleasure in carrying out exactly those punishments - ones that were so cruel that laws had been made against them, only that those laws did not apply to Crowley. He was nothing, a worthless demon and could be treated as such. Gabriel had made sure that he knew that.

But Aziraphale _didn't_ know that and Crowley was not about to give him a reason to check just how creative he was allowed to be when it came to punishments. He would ensure it wouldn't even come to a point at which Aziraphale had to think about severe reprimands, because he would do his best to be attentive to his Master's every need, would do things before they were asked of him, would be the best, most submissive demon Mas- Aziraphale could ever had wished for. He would be as submissive as he could be, the best ~~slave butler toy~~ demon Aziraphale could possibly have wished for.

He would do everything necessary to make sure that Aziraphale never, _never_ looked at that damned contract again.

\--

Aziraphale was starting to become a bit worried for Crowley. The demon had barely spoken in the last week, had always kept his head tilted downwards and hadn't looked him in the eyes one single time.  
How exactly he had managed to do that, was unfathomable for the angel. He had tried to ease the obviously worried demon by talking about trivial things, had given him as much food as he thought he needed (since Crowley never told him how much he _wanted_ ), had explicitly told him to sleep for as long as he wanted and had offered him to read any book in his store he desired.

Nothing had worked.

Crowley had responded to all of it with an unnecessary amount of "Thank you's" but had not stopped behaving queerly.  
And Aziraphale had no idea what he could do to make him stop.

The demon's behaviour made him deeply uncomfortable. He felt as if the other was trying to fulfil his every wish, not that he had many, and this sort of subservience made Aziraphale feel uneasy.  
He needed to talk to Crowley before it could become even worse than it already was.  
He only had to make sure to do so in a way that did not alarm the demon.

Crowley had insisted on cleaning both their plates by hand tonight. He knew that the angel could just miracle them clean a lot more thoroughly than he could scrub them, but he was getting slightly worried about the lack of things he could do for his Master.

Aziraphale did not have many wishes and since he still refused to use Crowley in a physical way and had even given him a seperate bedroom, Crowley's duties were fewer than they had ever been before.  
Which was the reason why he was cleaning plates with a soapy sponge and slight panic (since he did not know how else he could please Aziraphale) when the angel walked in.

Crowley, who had been lost in thoughts, nearly dropped the plate.  
His head whipped round and he just managed to set the plate down before he fell to his knees on the floor, forgetting that Aziraphale had asked ~~(ordered)~~ him to stop doing that days ago.

He froze.

Aziraphale, whose steps had faltered as soon Crowley had dropped on the floor, started walking over to the demon and gently touched his shoulder.

"Stand up, dear, would you?"

Crowley nodded mutely and got up, keeping a respectful distance from the angel with his eyes turned to the floor. Aziraphale suppressed a worried sigh.  
"Are you quite alright, my dear?"

Crowley nodded, too quickly for it to be real, and Aziraphale closed his eyes briefly.  
He had planned on asking the demon about his strange behaviour in the past few days but it seemed that now was not the best moment to do so.

Instead, he offered Crowley his hand and led him to the living room, where they sat down - Aziraphale on the sofa and Crowley on the floor, cross-legged.

Aziraphale leaned forward.  
"I have noticed that you've been a bit... tense, the past few days and I'm afraid that I have not done as a good job at turning this into your home as I should have."  
He stopped for a second and looked at Crowley, who was, despite looking slightly fraught, appearing to be listening.

"So I think it's time to try something new, alright my dear?"

Aziraphale thought that he saw Crowley blanch at that, though he couldn't be sure as the demon was still looking at the floor intently. He dismissed that tought as a trick of the light and continued, warming up to the plan he'd just thought of.

"I want you to tell me something you want or like every day. It could be anything - a smell, a taste, a book, anything. Is that okay for you?"

He watched Crowley eagerly, waiting for a sign of approval. Aziraphale quite liked his new plan. It would allow Crowley to communicate his feelings without having to feel as if he were being pressured to reveal too much. And additionally, Aziraphale would get a better feeling of what the demon did and didn't like and would be able to avoid certain triggering actions in the future.

Crowley, who had still not looked up at Aziraphale, nodded slightly to indicate his approval and the angel could barely contain his smile.

"Perfect! Thank you, my dear. Is there anything you want me to do in return?"

Crowley answered with a quick shake of his head and Aziraphale nodded, already having expected that answer.  
Still, he was quite happy with himself.  
He felt that his new idea would help both of them make progress a lot faster than they had been up until now.  
It was a good idea, truly, it was.

\---

That night, Crowley did not sleep.

Instead, he lay curled up under the bed, suppressing his tears and hoping that his doubtlessly distressed aura would not wake the angel.  
He did not understand why Aziraphale had proposed this weird... game of his.  
Oh, Crowley was by no means a stranger to mindgames, seeing as Gabriel had loved them dearly, but he had not thought that Aziraphale would also like them.  
And worse, he did not understand why the angel did it.

He had been good, hadn't he? He hadn't overstepped his boundaries, had tried his best to fulfil his Master's wishes and had been as useful and quiet as he could.  
But he must have gotten it wrong _somewhere_. Otherwise, Aziraphale would not have invented that game of his.

To Crowley, it was clear why the angel had asked him to reveal what he liked - so he could take it away.  
It was clever, really. If Aziraphale really was not inclined towards physical punishment (and so far that assumption seemed to be correct), it only made sense that he punished Crowley in another way. And forcing him to reveal what he liked about his life here would make it easier to take just those things away for when he wanted to punish Crowley.

Crowley nearly admired the plan. His new Master was obviously quite clever. But Crowley would be even more clever - he'd keep his answers as noncommittal as he could. 

That way, it would not hurt as much when Aziraphale decided to take those things from him.

\--

Aziraphale was not quite as happy with the way his idea had turned out, as he had thought he'd be.  
Crowley's answers were as generalised as could be, and he still seemed suspicios of Aziraphale. And, what was even worse, Aziraphale had started to sense that Crowley's aura was often filled with terror, especially at night.

All this worried the angel but he simply could not think of any other way to try and improve the poor demon's situation.  
He knew by now that Crowley did not trust him in the slightest, with good reason, but he did not know how he could ever change that.  
It would take time, thought Aziraphale, time and a lot of patience.

But he was an angel after all, time and patience were two thing he had en masse.

**

Meanwhile, Crowley had scarcely felt more confused and terrified in his life.  
So far, Aziraphale had not made any move to take the things he liked away from him, not that it would really have harmed him. Crowley had only told the angel that he liked strawberries, the smell of candles and the feeling of the soft carpet underneath his feet. Aziraphale had smiled at him whenever he had told him any of that, but Crowley had not been able to find any malice in his smile.

Not even now.

Right now, Crowley was on his knees on the kitchen floor, his hands bloody as he tried to pick up the shattered plate. 

Aziraphale's plate. The plate he had just dropped while trying to wash it, he had dropped one of Master's plates, Master who had even asked him not to do the washing up, but Crowley had insisted anyways, and now he had dropped it, dropped the plate, he had dropped-

Crowley's frantic thoughts came to a halt as the shard he had tried to pick up cut deep into his hand. He whimpered.  
Not only had he destroyed Master's property, no, he was also dirtying his floors, and was absolutely useless in trying to clean the mess he'd made.

Crowley let the fragment he'd touched carefully drop again, he couldn't hold it, not with the way his hands were trembling.  
He needed to be quicker, he knew that, Master could come into the room at every second, and Crowley needed to have cleaned the mess before the angel came. It was the only way he could maybe ease his punishment a little.

Crowley's eyes filled with tears. He hadn't wanted to drop the plate, he had only tried to please his Master by cleaning up a bit, but now he had made everything so much worse.

It was a miracle that Master was not here yet, had not seen the mess Crowley had made yet-

"Crowley?"

The demon flinched. He dared to cast a quick glance upwards, seeing Aziraphale standing in the doorway, a crease between his brows. Crowley whimpered. He heard the angel make his way over and grabbed at the shards hastily, trying to pick up as many of them as possible before his punishment came, to show his Master that he'd tried to clean, that he'd tried to be useful, he'd tried-

A hand fell on his shoulder and Crowley flinched.

He dropped his head.  
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to drop it, I just wanted to clean the plates, I tried to pick the shards up, I'm so sorry, I apologize, please-"

Crowley choked on a sob and hunched in on himself, struggling for air.  
He felt his Master's hand slide down his back and braced for the pain.  
But it never came. Instead, the angel merely patted him and snapped his fingers, miracling the broken plate away. Then, he bent and picked the still shaking Crowley up, carrying him to the living room.

"Shh, my dear, you're alright, I am not angry at you, I promise," whispered Aziraphale as he sat Crowley down on the sofa. Crowley was still shaking and had his eyes squeezed shut, tears leaking all over his face.  
Aziraphale ached to touch the demon, to hug him, but he merely kept talking soothingly until Crowley could open his eyes again.

For a minute, they both just sat there, looking at each other, Aziraphale doing his best to seem as calming and non-threatening as possible.  
Then he moved, slowly enough to let Crowley observe his every movement, and took the demon's injured hands in his.  
He made sure to hold them gently and checked for any shards in the demon's flesh, of which there were luckily none.

Then he spoke, softly as not to upset Crowley again:  
"I'll heal your hands now, is that alright with you?"

He waited until Crowley had given a small, quivering nod, and then concentrated on the Grace within him.  
Aziraphale had not used it for a long time since he rarely injured himself, but now he was happy to have it. With it, he could heal Crowley much more effectively and quickly than with any human method.  
He watched as Crowley's wounds healed until there were no signs that he had ever been injured but a slight redness to his hands.

With a satisfied smile, Aziraphale sat back to look at Crowley again. The demon was staring at him in utter shock and disbelief, alternating between looking at his own hands and Aziraphale's.  
"Are you alright? Did I miss a spot?" asked the angel but was relieved as he saw Crowley shake his head.

"No, Master. I merely thought... But I was wrong. Thank you for healing me. That was beyond kind."

Aziraphale raises his eyebrow, surprised.  
"What else did you think I was going to do with my Grace?"

Crowley shrugged, avoiding eye contact.  
"Punish me, Mas- Aziraphale. For dropping the plate."

 _Punish him?_ With his _Grace_? 

That would have been beyond cruel, touching a demon with his Grace with the intention to harm them, was nothing but torture. The effects it had on them were similar to those Holy Water had, only that it could not kill them.  
And if Crowley had so readily assumed that Aziraphale would use his Grace to punish him, it most likely meant that it had been done before.  
Oh Lord. Aziraphale wanted to throw up.

Instead, he closed his eyes to collect himself before he spoke again. 

"Crowley, you have to believe me when I say this: I would never, never punish you by using my Grace. I would never punish you either way, but especially not with my Grace. That would be beyond cruel, it would hurt you in unimaginable ways and I swear, I swear on me being an angel that I would not do that. I swear it, my dear."

Aziraphale was pretty sure that he had tears in his eyes as Crowley looked up, fragile and confused.  
He saw the demon nod and form the word "okay" with his mouth before looking down again. Aziraphale continued, now slightly more collected.

"I also would, will not punish you for dropping that plate. Some things happen and this one can easily be fixed with a small miracle, but even if it couldn't, I would not be mad. I will not punish you, Crowley, not ever, for nothing. I swear."  
Aziraphale stopped speaking. The whole situation reminded him too much of their second evening together, when Crowley had thought he'd be punished for sleeping.  
Oh God, had he thought even then that Aziraphale would use his Grace to harm him? It was likely, with the way he had watched Aziraphale's hand suspiciously, and it seemed clear to the angel now, but back then, he had had no idea.

Aziraphale willed back tears.

"It will be alright, Crowley, dear. I know that this situation might be a bit... discombobulating right now, but I promise that you do not have to be afraid of me. I hope that you'll be able to see that one day, but I am happy to wait as long as you need, alright? But please, please be assured that you are absolutely safe here. I promise you that."

Aziraphale saw the demon nod, still not looking up from the sofa and he sighed quietly. Of course he knew that his reassurances were not enough, not in the slightest.

But he hoped that they were at least a start. 

\--

From then on, Aziraphale was very, _very_ careful with his words and the way he acted. He let Crowley do a few more chores around the house as that seemed to keep the demon happy, and made sure that he was as clear with his intentions as possible whenever he spoke to him.  
Aziraphale also tended to touch him a bit more often, trying to show him that touch did not automatically mean harm.  
It seemed to work, at least a little.  
Crowley seemed slightly less tense around him, had even stopped calling him "Master" again, and had seemed relieved when Aziraphale had told him that he could stop telling him about things he liked.  
Aziraphale did not quite understand why, but was happy to see the positive effect it seemed to have on Crowley.

For a few weeks, everything was well - Crowley spoke more and Aziraphale felt more at ease, too.  
Obviously, he knew that it was still a long way to recovery, but he thought they were making steady, if slow, progress.

Crowley did indeed feel more at ease with Aziraphale. He was slowly warming up to the angel's touch and character. He had (if hesitantly and with some reservations) accepted the thought that Aziraphale wouldn't punish him, at least not soon. He had believed him, for what other choice did he have?

He had begun relaxing slightly as he'd noticed that Aziraphale had not mentioned or even looked at the contract again since he'd signed it. Slowly, Crowley accepted the idea that maybe, just maybe the angel really had no interest in testing just how few his limits were.  
Crowley was still careful around him, obviously, but since Aziraphale had healed him instead of hurting him, he had lowered his guard the slightest bit. About three millimetres, maybe. But it was more than he'd ever thought he would and in some twisted way, it felt good. He was still worried and did not trust Aziraphale entirely, but the foundation was there. Crowley knew that, given enough time, he might even start to actually _trust_ Aziraphale.  
And that scared him more than anything else.

***

But of course, just as Crowley's situation had started to improve, everything had come crashing down around him. And this time, it wasn't even Aziraphale's fault in the slightest. In fact, it was probably no one's fault, except Gabriel's maybe, but that always depended on how one looked at the situation.  
\- 

That fateful day had started off quite normally, just like every other day.  
Crowley had woken up before Aziraphale, had gotten dressed and started too look around the flat for things to do.  
He cleaned the kitchen as well as he could and attempted to clean up the living room, as well, but was overwhelmed by the sheer amount of books in it.  
Nevertheless, he did the best he could and then waited for his Master to wake up.

As soon as Aziraphale had done so, he joined Crowley in the kitchen and conjured some food which the demon accepted gratefully but ate little of. It always was that way and Aziraphale had learned to hold back from asking Crowley to eat more.  
Afterwards, they both sat in the living room for some time, reading, until Crowley became resteless and asked for tasks to do.

Today, Aziraphale asked him if he could clean his room. Normally, everything in him would have protested against ordering someone else around like that but since he knew that it reassured Crowley a little, and since it was better than his other options (namely hurting Crowley), he swallowed his discomfort and asked the demon to do small tasks around the house.

After Crowley had left the room in order to "clean" the bedroom (there wasn't much to do up there anyway, Aziraphale was quite a tidy person) Aziraphale leaned back and tried to focus on his book again. He could hear the demon move upstairs.  
He had to think of a way to-

His thoughts were interrupted by the ringing of the small bell that hung over the front door. Aziraphale let out a long, suffering sigh.  
A customer.  
Hallelujah.

 

-  
Upstairs, Crowley dropped to his knees, terrified.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops. A cliffhanger! I hope you enjoyed it  
> Oh and quick disclaimer, just to avoid misunderstandings: there will most likely be NO Gabriel in the next chapter! Some allusions to him, yes, but he will probably not actually appear on screen, sorry! <3


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!  
> You all are incredibly, incredibly amazing and I cannot believe the love this story has received so far. THANK YOU! Thank every single one of you, your comments make me smile so so much :)
> 
> I tried incorporating some of the ideas people have left in the comments and I hope it is satisfacory. I cannot guarantee that this will be possible with everything, but if you'd like to see a small thing happen in the next chapter I could try and fit it in. :)  
> All the previous warnings apply, plus victim-blaming (not quite but it's the closest thing I can think of)  
> This chapter is a bit more graphic than the last ones but that doesn't really mean much. It's really not over the top, I hope.  
> Also, WARNING, there's a mention of throwing up in this chapter. It is only really there in the sense that it is said that someone throws up, nothing more, but I thought I'd mention it to be safe :)  
>  
> 
> I hope you enjoy it and thank you thank you thank you again!!!! <3

It had been the bell.  
It had been a while since Crowley had last heard the sound of one but as soon as he had, terrible memories had come rushing back.

-

_He was kneeling on the cold, hard floor, hands bound and trembling behind his back. His mouth was bloody, as was the rest of his face and he was stammering out apologies, as best as he could with the collar so tight around his neck that he could barely breathe. The small golden bell, which hung on the collar jingled with every pained breath he took and it was too tight, too tight, he couldn't breathe-_

-  
_He was on all fours, his head bowed and he could just see his Master's shoes. Crowley had been ordered not to move, but that had been long ago and slowly, his arms had begun to shake. He grit his teeth, squeezed his eyes shut because he couldn't cry, he shouldn't, but his arms simply couldn't stop trembling._  
_Then he heard the ringing of the bell, maybe a metre in front of him and his breathing stopped. He whimpered even though that was not allowed either, but by now it didn't matter, it didn't matter anymore because it was too late.  
_ _He had heard the bell and the bell meant punishment. Through his watery eyes he could just make out his Master's shoes, coming closer to him, though he barely heard his steps over the terribly loud, chiming bell. Crowley felt his tears run down his face and heard his panicked sobs, but even that could not overpower the horrendous sound of the bell._

-  
_Everything hurt. There were hands all over him, too-white wings brushing him and the floor all around him, hands pulling, grabbing, clawing, insults fired at him and over all that he heard the terrifying bell, so loud in his ears.  
Another angels' hand grabbed his hair and pulled it back, forcing him to look up, and now he was staring directly at Gabriel, who was standing over him, smiling, and still immaculately dressed, a stark contrast to Crowley himself who was laying on the floor, naked and bloody. And in Gabriel's, in his Master's, hand was the small, golden bell, jingling merrily._

 

\---

Crowley gasped for breath. He had dug his nails into his own legs in fear and the pain was what had brought him back from his memories.  
He leaned over, retching but dry heaving.  
Tears squeezed out of the corners of his eyes and he sucked in a breath.  
Downstairs, he could hear Master- _Aziraphale, it was Aziraphale, he wanted to be called Aziraphale_ \- talk to someone, and it frightened Crowley. He couldn't place the voice, he didn't know whom it belonged to and he didn't know what that person might do to him.  
His head was swimming with all the memories that had come back so suddenly and he was shaking.

Was it possible that Aziraphale had invited someone over to punish him?  
In his experience, the sound of bells and other people only ever lead to pain.  
Maybe his Mast- Maybe _Aziraphale_ had invited a friends over to hurt Crowley, maybe he liked watching but not actively punishing, maybe he enjoyed seeing Crowley at another's mercy...

Maybe the past few days had all been a ruse to trick Crowley into thinking he was safe only to remind him of his place later on. Maybe that was why Aziraphale had only let Crowley clean the flat for the past few days, so that he'd think himself to be safe with the angel only to be hurt so much worse later on.  
It made sense, thought Crowley, that Aziraphale had wanted to lull him into a false sense of security because he had bigger plans for him later on. Bigger plans that apparently involved another person.

Crowley wanted to scream. Gabriel had been fond of inviting other angels to come and hurt him, laugh at him, use him and it had always been so much worse than just with the archangel alone. Crowley could still remember a multitude of hands on his body, everywhere, grabbing, pulling, scratching-

Crowley bent forward and threw up.  
He sobbed, panicked, because he had just thrown up _in his Master's bedroom_ and if Aziraphale had not planned on hurting him himself, well, now he certainly would.  
Crowley dug his nails in his leg again and tried wetting his lips with his tongue, which had become sharp and forked in his panic.  
Oh no, no, _no_. Gabriel had always been so disgusted whenever Crowley's more snake-like features had appeared and the demon couldn't imagine Aziraphale behaving any differently.

He wanted to scream and cry all at once. If there had been any way to worsen his situation, well, he had just found it.

 

/

 

Meanwhile, Aziraphale had tried futilely to shoo the surprisingly annoying customer away.  
As the bell had chimed, the angel had tried his best to look as grumpy as possible in order to make his customer feel about as unwelcome as she was.  
But the old lady who had come in, insisted on buying a book and had started to browse through his collection. If he hadn't been an angel, Aziraphale would have said something very rude to her in order to scare her away.  
As it was, he was merely glaring daggers at her.

Aziraphale was worried about Crowley, who must surely be confused, if not frightened by the sudden appearance of another person in the shop. He knew that the demon had heard the bell ring but by now, Crowley was too far away from him for the angel to feel his aura.  
Aziraphale sighed.  
He'd get up and check on him as soon as this extraordinarily annoying woman-

A book landed on the counter in front of him with a loud bang. The lady looked about as irritated as Aziraphale felt and even though the angel would normally raise Heaven and Hell before he'd _ever_ sell a book, today was a bit different.  
He shoved it in a bag, handed it to the woman, stuffed the money she gave him in return hastily in his pockets and turned around to go upstairs. 

He heard the shop door slam shut loudly as he hurried up the stairs but couldn't bother feeling bad about having offended the old lady. His every thought was with Crowley, whose aura he could slowly begin to feel.  
The sheer amount of panic that hit him nearly caused Aziraphale to stumble. He wasn't used to being confronted with such an amount of negative feelings and it seemed as if Crowley was practically drowning in his fear.

Aziraphale burst through the door which had been, in hindsight, not his most intelligent idea. But at that moment he was barely able to think straight with the demon's panic coating him like a cloak, fogging his thoughts.

The sight that greeted him was terrible.  
Crowley was kneeling on the floor next to his own sick and he was shaking worse than he'd ever before. His eyes were squeezed shut and his nails had dug in his own hands, leaving bloody trails behind. On his trousers there were scratch marks as well although it seemed the demon had not managed to tear the fabric, something which Aziraphale was grateful for.

Crowley didn't even seem to have noticed that Aziraphale had appeared. He was whimpering quietly, tears running down his face but had not acknowledged the angel at all.  
Aziraphale took one single, hesitant step towards the demon.

He had no idea what had caused Crowley such distress but he assumed that it had been the arrival of the customer. However, what exactly had distressed him so much about that, was a mystery to Aziraphale. But for now, it didn't matter.  
What mattered was that he had to help Crowley ease his panic.

He touched the demon's shoulder gently but got no reaction. Crowley didn't even seem to know that the angel was in the same room as him. Aziraphale bit his lip, beyond concerned. He knew he had to calm the demon down somehow, but couldn't think of any other way than pick him up and carry him to the sofa in the living room.  
Seeing as Crowley didn't react to that, either, Aziraphale was starting to become increasingly more worried.

He put the demon down gently and miracled the sick upstairs quickly away with a thought.  
Then he kneeled down next to the demon, who was still in a state of sheer panic and had not noticed any of their trip to the living room.  
Aziraphale bit his lip. This was unlike anything else he had ever seen, in humans as well as angels, and he did not know what the best course of action would be.

For now, he tried calming his own racing heart down and healed Crowley's hands with a little bit of Grace. The demon had stopped whimpering but was still tense and breathing erratically, his fingers clenching around nothing.  
Aziraphale took his hands into his own and gave them a reassuring squeeze before making a cool, wet cloth appear which he laid on Crowley's forehead.  
He had read somewhere that this would help, but didn't know the specifics anymore.  
He figured that it didn't really matter why it was supposed to help.  
The only thing that _did_ matter was that Crowley felt better soon.

\----

Crowley woke up to the angel's face looming over him.  
He drew in a sharp breath, feeling the phantom pain of a collar he no longer wore on his throat.  
The scene playing out before his eyes - the angel bent over his laying form - he'd seen that before...

"I remember you."

As soon as the words had left his mouth, Crowley flinched and felt his heart picking up in speed again.  
He had spoken out of turn, hadn't been given permission and had not addressed Master correctly, and he knew what the punishment for that was.  
Crowley cringed for a well-deserved slap but it never came.  
Instead, he felt the angel stroke his hair ever so softly.

"We're alone, you don't have to be afraid. But tell me please, what do you remember, Crowley?"

Crowley closed his eyes. Partially because he could concentrate better that way and partially because he could pretend that someone else than his Master was stroking his hair.  
He didn't want to answer the question but he had to listen, he had to obey because it had been an order, no matter how nicely phrased.

He swallowed before speaking, still feeling sick but with slowly easing panic as the petting of his head continued without Aziraphale's hand ever grabbing his hair and hurting him or forcing his face in his lap.

"I remember the Garden, Master. I, I don't think you remember me, how could you, I am just a demon, after all. But we met once, in the Garden. I was free back then and I-"

Crowley had begun shaking again. His voice, which had been steady if quiet up until now, had begun trembling as he recounted the events.  
That had been how this terrible life of his had started, after all. 

Everything had begun in Eden.

 

_Crowley was laying on the floor, relaxing. He had done nothing all day but felt somehow still exhausted. For the moment, he was enjoying the light of the sun on his body, warming him. He was debating whether or not he should turn into his snake-form to curl up and sleep, when a shadow fell upon him._

_He opened one eye lazily and blinked at the being standing before him.  
And angel. Huh._

_"Hello," said the angel, "I'm afraid I'm rather lost. Would you be so kind as to help me find my way back to the Tree?"_

_Crowley raised an eyebrow._  
_"The tree? You're gonna have to be a bit more specific than that, angel, 'cause there are a whole lot of trees around here."  
_ _He grinned as the angel blushed and pushed himself off the ground slowly._

_"The apple tree. Big, apple-y, should be in the middle of the Garden and easy to find but my sense of direction has never been the best."  
Crowley laughed at that and stood up, grinning slowly._

_"Of course. What kind of demon would I be anyways if I didn't help an angel in need?"  
The angel's brow furrowed but before he could say anything, Crowley spun and began marching towards the tree, the angel following him._

"I got... reprimanded, afterwards, by the other demons. I, they, they didn't like that I helped an angel, Master, and told me if I ever did something as _kind_ as that again, I'd be punished without hesitation."

Crowley shuddered and Aziraphale's hand tightened the slightest bit. The demon swallowed back the discomfort, stopped the pleas and apologies that were on the tip of his tongue, from spilling and continued talking. His story wasn't over yet and he wasn't stupid enough not to know what would happen if he withheld something from a Master.  
  
He knew that that, what was to come would surely not please Master and that punishment was inevitable but either way, it was better to tell the whole story than keep quiet about part of it. If he did that, he would surely be hurt in ways he couldn't even begin to imagine.  
Crowley knew what happened when he tried lying, tricking or cheating his Masters, he had the scars to prove it.  
  
And no matter how kind Aziraphale had been up until now, Crowley already knew that he was about to be punished as soon as he stopped recounting the events in Eden. After all, there was no way Master wouldn't reprimand him for throwing up on his floor or for not having carried out his order of cleaning his bedroom.  
The demon knew that as soon as Aziraphale's curisosity was sated, his punishment would begin.  
  
And Crowley didn't even want to begin to imagine what it would be, or how cruel it would be. Because it _would_ be cruel, he was sure of that - Aziraphale had good reason to be brutal with him and with the other person gone - the one that had come in before Crowley had had a panic attack - he was free to do whatever he wanted to Crowley.

The demon shuddered and felt Aziraphale's hand stroke his hair quicker in response. Crowley wanted to cry because this unexpected comfort, this kindness would not last much longer. As soon as he stopped talking, as soon as Master had his answers, he would be hurt.  
He didn't want to but he had to continue his story. Delaying it would only worsen his punishment. 

"For a few years I kept quiet, I did what I was asked to do. But then, when... When Adam and Eve left the Garden, I misbehaved, I disobeyed, I was bad and I broke the rules and-"

Crowley's voice dropped as he remembered the events that had lead to him being given to the angels as little more than a slave. He had wished that he'd never have to remember this again but like most of his wishes, it hadn't come true.

"I helped them, Adam and Eve, I gave them tips on how to survive outside if Eden. I, I felt that I had to and I know that it was not my place, it was _wrong_ , but I did it anyways. I helped them even though it was my fault that they had been cast out.  
But then the other demons found out and punished me for it. Demons aren't very forgiving after all, and they told me that if I wanted to be that _good_ , I could just as well join the angels, Master. And of course I couldn't, it wasn't right, and when they sent me to Michael, she punished me for ever having the audacity of thinking that I was even worth being in the same room as an angel. And then... Then I was sent to Master Gabriel."

Crowley's voice had gone quiet at the last few words and he didn't dare to look up.  
Master knew what came next, after all. Crowley only hoped that he'd not force him to tell him what he'd gone through during his time with Gabriel. He didn't think he could remember that again without panicking.

Aziraphale stopped stroking his hair and Crowley tensed.  
He had finished his story, he had told Master everything and now, there was no reason to delay his punishment any longer.  
Crowley dreaded what Aziraphale had come up with. He didn't know what his Master liked, only that he did not enjoy sexual encounters, but that didn't mean that he would not like to hurt or humiliate Crowley in other ways. And, as Crowley had learnt, non-sexual punishments could often be even more brutal than sexual ones.

His thoughts were interrupted by Master's words.

"Thank you for telling me, dear. That was very brave of you. But I find myself wondering about your name - weren't you called Crawly back in Eden?"

Crowley flinched at that.

"I'm sorry, Master! I didn't think of that, I swear I didn't lie to you, I would never lie to you, I merely forgot about that, please forgive me, I-"

"Shh, dear, I'm not mad, I promise I'm not mad at you. I am simply a little confused is all, but if you'd rather not tell me about it..."

Crowley shook his head frantically. He had been given a second chance at explaining himself and he'd be damned if he didn't take it.  
He started talking again, quickly and stumbling over his words but it was better than keeping quiet and letting his Master think that he'd withheld that piece of information on purpose. 

"You're right, Master, my name used to be different. But I was, I was allowed to change it a while ago. Gabriel, my previous Master he was kind enough to grant me one wish. And I, I wished for my name to be changed, Master."

Crowley remebered that moment with mixed feelings, torn between dread and thankfulness for it _had_ been kind of Gabriel to give him this. Even if what he had experienced in return had been terrible.

 -

 _"One wish," said Gabriel, smiling benevolently at Crawly who was kneeling at his feet, beaten black and blue. "I grant you one wish Crawly, for you were so good for my friends and me tonight. So, what do you want?"_  
_He kicked Crawly in the ribs as the demon did not answer immediately. Crawly lickes his dry lips and whispered, hands trembling and already bracing for the next blow that was surely about to come. "Crowley, Master. Please call me Crowley."_  
_Gabriel laughed at that and bent, stroking Crowley's hair before pulling at it harshly, forcing him to look up.  
"As you wish, _Crowley. _And now up. I want you in the bedroom."_

.

Crowley stopped speaking as he felt Aziraphale's hands tighten their grip in his hair. His heart stopped.

That was it. The period of safety in which he had been allowed to talk freely, in which he had been able to delay his punishment a little while longer, had now ended.  
Crowley willed his tears, which threatened to spill, away. 

He knew that he deserved this, he knew that he had done things for which his Master would punish him cruelly, he knew that his Master had every right to do so.  
Nevertheless, he couldn't bring himself to accept that fact. Every fiber in his being screamed at him to run and hide, to try and escape from his Master, but Crowley knee that that would be almost equal to a death-wish. He had no right to wish for a punishment to stop, Gabriel had reminded him of that everyday. He simply had to take what was been given and, if his Master wanted it, thank him for hurting him. 

Then, Azirphale began speaking and Crowley was surprised not to find any hint of anger in his vice. However, he knew that that didn't lean much- some of his worst punishments had been when Gabriel had seemed utterly calm.

"Thank you for telling me, Crowley dear. I just have one last question, but please don't feel pressured to answer me. I merely want to know what exactly caused you to I have such a... strong reaction earlier today, so that I can avoid that in the future."

-

Aziraphale felt faintly sick.  
He had listened to Crowley's explanation with growing horror, and the tale of how he'd ended up in the position he was in, had revolted Aziraphale.  
Being punished for being too _kind_ and then being hurt for that kindness by angels of all people, was a sickening thought to Aziraphale. No one deserved Crowley's fate but the thought that he had had to endure all this because of an act of kindness...

Aziraphale was still stroking Crowley's hair gently when the demon answered his previous question.

"It was the bell, master. It reminded me of a... of a collar with a bell I had to wear when I was with Gabriel."

Aziraphale sucked in a sharp breath.  
A collar? Crowley had been forced to wear a collar against his will, like a dog?  
Somehow, even though this was hardly the worst thing Aziraphale had learnt about the demons' past, this fact horrified him.

"I promise you Crowley that you will never have to wear such a collar again. I would never force you to do that. And I will promptly remove the bell from the shop door if that helps you."

Crowley's sudden rush of fear at those words surprised Aziraphale. What had he said to warrant such a reaction?  
Hastily, he began stroking the demon's hair again, hoping to calm him down by doing that. He felt helpless - somehow, he always managed to say the exact wrong thing to the demon.  
The demon, who looked currently close to tears in his lap.

/

Crowley had miraculously begun to calm down a little right up until Aziraphale had said his last sentence. He knew that the angel would carry out what he'd promised, he knew that he'd remove the bell, but that was something Crowley could not, under any circumstances, let happen.  
If Master did indeed remove the bell, Crowley would owe him for that act of kindness, just like he'd owed Gabriel for calling him Crowley instead of Crawley.  
Crowley suppressed a shiver.  
The reasons for which he'd be hurt were piling up, becoming more and more until they'd all come crashing down, crushing him.  
Crowley had feared punishment for one thing; now he'd be hurt for many.  
Just as he felt his breathing pick up in speed again, Aziraphale spoke up again.

"Or I could... not do that? I do not want to make you feel uncomfortable but I do think that it might help you."

Crowley nodded once at that, shakily.  
He saw Aziraphale's brow furrow as the angel apparently had an idea, one, which he seemingly didn't like much.

"But of course," continued Aziraphale, now speaking quicker than before, "I do not expect anything from you in return. Believe me Crowley, you would not owe me for that. Do you understand?"

What else could Crowley do but nod at that?  
He didn't know what he'd done to deserve a Master such as this one, one who was kind beyond belief, one who had not hurt him yet, not once.  
Not that that meant that he wouldn't, in fact, Crowley was pretty sure that...

"Do you expect me to hurt you?"

The angel's words sounded shocked if not hurt and Crowley blinked, surprised.  
What kind of question was that? _Of course_ he expected to be punished, it was what he deserved after all.  
Apparently, something on his face must have indicated that answer because Aziraphale drew in a shaky breath amd closed his eyes briefly, leaving Crowley to feel confused and rather lost. He turned his head away, just in case the angel could see something else in his face that might displease him. But at least, his panic had eased down somewhat.

Aziraphale shifted slightly, jolting Crowley's head in his lap before he spoke, slowly and seemingly thinking very carefully before every single word.

"As I've said before, Crowley, I will not punish you. I have never hurt anyone willingly and never would, either. I am not mad at you, for nothing, and you've got nothing to fear. What happened upstairs was just as easy to solve with a small miracle as the broken plate was, but as I've said before, even if it hadn't been, I still wouldn't have hurt you because of it. Or because of anything else, for that matter. I know that you might still need some time to adjust to your new life here, that you might not understand or accept it right now, but that is alright. I am an angel, after all. I am patient and I swear that I will not hurt you, dear. I want to make this as much as a home for you as possible."

Azirpahale stopped at that. His voice had begun to tremble slightly and his fingers shook as well.  
Crowley hadn't said a word and was facing away from him in his lap, so the angel couldn't read his facial expression. 

A few seconds passed before it became evident that Crowley would not answer Aziraphale. He sighed softly and petted the demon's hair one last time before making to get up, pulling Crowley up with him.

The demon was eyeing him with a carefully kept blank look and Aziraphale gave him what he hoped to be a reassuring smile. 

"Come," he said, leading the way to the kitchen once more, "I want to make you food. You must be starving. And of course, some tea. Tea has always helped me calm down."

He gave the demon, who still looked suspicious, another gentle smile before walking out of the kitchen room, Crowley following him.

Aziraphale allowed himself a small, private smile, which was as pained as it was happy.  
Because among all the fear, terror and suspicion, he had felt a faint glimmer of hope in Crowley's aura.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!  
> This is probably the longest chapter yet and I really hope you'll like it!  
> I incorporated a few ideas from the comments and will probably use a few more people have sent me in the next chapters. :)
> 
> This chapter is a lot of set up and slightly less heavy on the angst I'd say (at least in the beginning).  
> I wanted to thank all of you so, so, so much, your comments really do mean a lot and brighten my day and I read and cherish every single one. You're amazing. Thank you!!
> 
>    
> (PS: I do not know how often I'll be able to upload in the next two weeks, I'm on vacation and the WiFi isn't great here)

Aziraphale was getting dressed as he heard a knock on his bedroom door.  
As he opened it he saw Crowley standing in front of it, twisting his hands nervously and looking at the floor.

The angel smiled.  
"Yes, love? Is everything alright?"

Crowley nodded mutely and dared looking up at the angel.  
He had been pondering about what to do next for the past few days and had come to the conclusion that if Aziraphale did not want to administer his punishment, he himself had to show initiative.

Crowley hated himself for thinking that way but the constant waiting had become unbearable to him. He could barely stand being in the same room as his Master now, for he was torn between his feelings.  
On one hand, he was relieved that Aziraphale had said he wouldn't punish him ( _but he knew that this was a lie, they always came for him later, there was no peace, there was no such thing as no punishment_ ) but on the other hand, he could barely stand the feeling of dreadful anticipation anymore. He had become paranoid, afraid to be called to Aziraphale at any moment, afraid that the angel would wait until Crowley felt safe to surprise him with pain or humiliation, or, or-

And therefore, because Crowley thought he might go mad, because this _waiting_ was more terrible than some of his previous punishments had been, he had decided to ask Master to punish him.  
  
He thought it to be an excellent plan - if Master said no, Crowley could be at least somewhat assured that the angel wouldn't hurt him, at least not soon. And if he said yes, well, then Crowley would have at least taken matters in his own hands. But - and that was the important factor - he'd also finally feel relief from this terrible anticipation he had been dealing with for the past few days.  
  
And, Crowley reasoned, if nothing else, Master would surely be pleased by him showing initiative.  
(Deep down he hoped that asking might lead to the angel punishing him less severely, not hurting him as much. But his hopes were slim in that regard - he knew that he deserved whatever Aziraphale had to give, after all.)

And that was the reason why he had dared knocking on Aziraphale's door and was now entirely unable to look his Master in the eyes. Maybe it was better that way - he knew that his eyes were ghastly and other-worldly in all the worst ways.  
  
He had expected Aziraphale to be pleased to see him or maybe angry that he had had the _audacity_ to show up at his door, but the angel was neither. His aura simply exuded calmness and kindness and it felt as if all those positive feelings were choking Crowley.  
Ah, and then there was the fact that he'd been asked how he was feeling and had yet to answer the question.

"I'm fine, Master," he burst out, speaking quickly in the hope of making up for his delayed answer, "I slept well, thank you for letting me. And how are you, Master? Is there anything I could do for you, anything I could do to please you?"  
He didn't dare looking in his Master's face for it would surely show ridicule because of his stammering.

He heard Aziraphale shift slightly and tensed a little. He did not have a logical reasoning for that reaction - he was merely used to being aware of his Masters' every movement, was used to having to guess their every wish and try to accommodate to it as quickly as possible.  
  
But Aziraphale did not raise his hand or kick him, nor did he try and force Crowley's chin up to make him look him in the eyes.  
Instead he answered with a smile that Crowley could practically _feel_ in his words.

"I'm fine, my dear. I also slept well, thank you for asking. And no, thank you, I am quite happy and have no wishes. Why did you come here, was there something you wanted?"

Crowley nodded mutely and clenched his hands to fists behind his back. That was it.

He dared looking up at Aziraphale through his lashes. The angel did not seem angry, which was good. Crowley was glad for every little thing that might improve the outcome of this situation.

"I wanted to ask-" he stopped for a second. No, that wouldn't do. If he really wanted Aziraphale to listen to him, to fulfil his wish, then he must be more submissive, meeker.  
"I wanted to ask, beg of you, to be so kind as to administer my punishment. I know that I must still be punished for dirtying your floors and not cleaning the bedroom and I wanted to ask of you to punish me for this, so that my behaviour might be rectified."

Crowley had tensed during his little speech and he feared that he might throw up again. The words that had just come out of his mouth, were sick and twisted. What had he become? Was he seriously that damaged, that traumatised that he _asked_ to be hurt? He clenched his hands to fists behind his back, digging his nails in his palms, disgusted by himself.  
And, Crowley thought humourlessly, if Aziraphale's aura was anything to go by, so was the angel.

Aziraphale was not aware of the feelings that washed through his aura after he'd heard Crowley's question. He remained blissfully unaware that the demon could feel every last drop of the disgust, anger and hurt the angel's aura exuded. The disgust and anger were directed at Gabriel, at everyone who had made Crowley feel as if he had to ask for a punishment, as if he had to _beg_ to be hurt. Aziraphale's pain however, was on Crowley's behalf and the angel made no attempt to stop it. What on earth had the demon suffered that he had thought it to be necessary to plead for a punishment? Because Aziraphale knew exactly why Crowley had turned up at his doorstep today - he most likely thought that by asking to be hurt, he'd be able to lessen the pain he assumed Aziraphale would inflict on him.

Aziraphale straightened.  
He knew that Crowley would keep on living in fear of an impending punishment; no matter how often Aziraphale reassured him that there was none to come. And if Aziraphale hated one thing, it was frightening anyone, no matter if demon or human.  
He knew that there was only one way to ease Crowley's worries, even though it wasn't one Aziraphale enjoyed. He had to show the demon that his fears were needless, and in order to do so, he'd have to pretend to punish Crowley.

Everything in Aziraphale bristled at the mere thought of it, but deep down, he knew that there was no other method to ease Crowley's fears.  
He'd have to "punish" the demon, but in a way that would not harm him, or, in the best case, a way which would even be pleasurable for him.

Therefore, Aziraphale straightened with a queasy feeling in his guts.  
He smiled at Crowley who had dared to look up at him and hoped that he could at least somewhat reassure the demon. 

"If you wish so and if it would make you feel better, then I will punish you. Please follow me Crowley, but fear not. I will not hurt you."

With those words and an uneasy feeling in his gut, Aziraphale stepped out of his bedroom and lead the way to the kitchen, all too aware of the frightened demon following him.

/

Crowley's body was practically vibrating with anxiety and nerves.  
He had felt a twisted sort of relief as Aziraphale had told him that he'd finally receive punishment, had felt relieved that all the worrying would finally come to an end. But that relief had quickly turned into fear of what exactly the angel would make him do. After all, Crowley had no idea what Aziraphale would enjoy.  
He also didn't believe him when he said that his punishment wouldn't hurt - for what would it do, if not harm him?

Crowley's hands started trembling as he was lead to the kitchen. Would Aziraphale use knives? He had not assumed that the angel would enjoy that method, but he also couldn't fathom any other reason as to why they were going to the kitchen.

In front of him, Aziraphale snapped his fingers and Crowley flinched.  
He couldn't see what the angel had conjured and he wasn't really sure he wanted to, either.  
He stiffened as Aziraphale turned around to face him. Crowley's hands started trembling again. He didn't know what was expected of him, didn't know what Aziraphale wanted him to do. Why had he been led to the kitchen? Did Aziraphale actually want to punish him using knives, or would he burn his hands on the stove, or- But no, he'd said he wouldn't hurt Crowley, so that meant it would most likely be something that had mental impact.  
Would Crowley have to clean all Aziraphale's plates, in order to make up for the one he broke? Should he clean the flat, starting with the kitchen?  
Both options sounded laughable, for they weren't even a proper punishment, merely a task, a chore, something which his Master could order him to do at any given moment - he didn't need the excuse of punishment for that.  
But what else-?

Oh no.  
Crowley craned his neck, trying to look past Aziraphale. Had the angel conjured the contract? Had he brought Crowley here to talk about the contract, to test his limits? Crowley felt his breath pick up in speed. If it was the case, he would take being cut up by knives every day over that.  
  
He could not, under any circumstances have Aziraphale look at the contract - the mere thought of it made him shudder and brought tears to his eyes.  
If his Master found out what he'd actually been allowed to do, what Crowley _should have told him he was allowed to do_ , he wasn't sure he'd survive the consequences.  
Keeping something like this from a Master was bad, terrible and it'd absolutely allow Aziraphale to hurt him any way he wanted.  
  
Crowley bit his lip to stop a groan from escaping. How had he ever been _stupid_ enough to even think that Aziraphale wouldn't find out-

A hand landed on his shoulder and Crowley nearly dropped to the floor. He took a sharp, painful breath and bowed his head, baring his neck in a gesture of submission.  
"I'm sorry, Master," he babbled, not even sure what he was apologising for. "I didn't mean to- I'm sorry I didn't listen, I-"

Aziraphale stopped his panicked rambling with a soft "shhh" and a wave of calmness he let wash over Crowley gently. The demon felt his heartbeat slow down and his hands stopped trembling.

"You've got nothing to apologise for, dear. If anything, _I'm_ sorry, I should have told you what I was about to do. No harm awaits you, but if you'd rather do this some other day...?"

"No! No, Master, I'm sorry, of course I am able to take my punishment today, you don't have to wait, I would be glad if you were so- if you were so _kind_ as to punish me today."

Crowley was aware that he was begging but since he didn't feel any disgust in the angel's aura, Aziraphale must not be too repulsed by his behaviour. Maybe he enjoyed it, even?  
But no, Crowley couldn't sense any enjoyment or satisfaction either, just the calmness the angel still sent out to him.

He felt soft, gentle fingers underneath his chin, so different from Gabriel's, who'd always been rough, looking to hurt him, often covered in Crowley's blood when lifting his chin to make him look him in the eyes, just as Aziraphale was doing right now.  
But contrary to what Gabriel's would have done, Aziraphale's face showed nothing but kindness and patience.

"I am sorry for alarming you, dear. If you want to, I will do what I came here for now, but only if you promise me that you're alright with that, yes, love?"

Crowley nodded hastily.  
He couldn't believe his luck - for the second time in few days he was given a second chance by his Master and he'd be damned if he didn't take it.  
Therefore he nodded once more before demurely bowing his head and stepping up to the table as Aziraphale beckoned him to come closer.

Crowley wasn't quite sure _what_ he'd expected to be on the table, but copious amounts of food were not it.  
Surprised, he dared looking up at his Master, who merely smiled and answered the unspoken question softly

"I want you to learn how to prepare your own food. It's a useful skill and I do think that you might enjoy it. Or, if not, you'll surely enjoy eating it afterwards."

His eyes crinkled at that and Crowley attempted a shaky smile himself, while feeling beyond confused.  
Was this a trick?  
Master could surely not be serious with what he was proposing - this wasn't punishment!  
But Aziraphale did look serious and Crowley, not wanting to test this outrageous luck of his, carefully took one of the items of food in his hand, unsure as to what to do with it.

"That's a tomato, my dear. It's more on the salty side and goes excellently with salad. Salad is the green thing over there. Would you like to make one?"

Aziraphale smiled at the demon expectantly. Crowley gave a quick, wide-eyed nod.  
"If it would please you, Master."

That was not quite the response Aziraphale had hoped for, but then again, he had probably overwhelmed Crowley quite a bit with his idea.  
Therefore, he let Crowley pick out some tomatoes, salad and pepper, all of which he put on the table in front of him.  
  
Aziraphale instructed him gently to wash the vegetables, which the demon did with shaking hands.  
But as the angel handed him a knife in order to cut the food up, Crowley flinched and nearly dropped it. Before he had a chance to apologise, Aziraphale already bent and picked it up, laying it on the counter.

"If you'd like to, I could cut the vegetables, you don't have to if the knife scares you."

Crowley nodded shakily, still as white as a sheet and watched from a safe distance as Aziraphale cut the vegetables quickly. Then, he gave Crowley a bowl and the greens, gently advising him to put in as much as he wanted. The demon followed suit and after a few moments he had a small amount of food in his bowl. Aziraphale took the rest. After he'd asked Crowley to sit down at the table, he fetched oil, vinegar and salt and let Crowley taste it before having him decide how much he wanted.

Then came the difficult part: getting Crowley to enjoy his food.  
Oh, of course the demon _ate_ , but he looked frightened while doing so and every few seconds, he'd throw a suspicious glance at Aziraphale, as if he were waiting for an attack. Crowley ate hastily, seemingly afraid that the food would be taken from him and sat stiffly at the table, body shaking with nerves.  
  
Aziraphale tried exuding calmness in his aura, but in only helped marginally - Crowley still looked like a trapped animal afraid of a beating. The angel suppressed a sigh. He couldn't blame Crowley; after all, this must be a very unusual if not even frightening situation to him. Aziraphale could be glad that he had even gotten the demon to eat anything at all.

After a few more painful minutes at the table, Crowley had eaten the last piece of paprika and Aziraphale smiled at him, gently inquiring if he had enjoyed the meal.  
Crowley nodded, as Aziraphale had assumed he would, and bowed his head slightly in thanks.

"Thank you, Master, I did. It was very generous of you to allow me to eat."

Aziraphale smiled at that even though his insides ached at being thanked for such a normal thing. He let Crowley, who had become twitchy and refused to look him in the eyes, clean the dishes and put them away. As soon as the demon had finished, he bowed before straightening again and dared throwing a short glance at his Master.

"Is there anything else I can do, can I help you somehow, Master?" 

Aziraphale nodded.  
"Actually yes, love. This was the first part of your 'punishment', if you wish to call it that, and there will be two more. But listen, Crowley," He stopped to look the demon in the eyes.

"As I said, I will not hurt you. All the other 'punishments' will be along the lines of this one, and I swear on my Grace that I will not hurt you. I derive no pleasure from bringing others down, I do not want to harm you and as you know I do not want to receive sexual favours from you. All those 'punishments' as you call them are merely implemented because I feel that you will be less worried if I make you do tasks 'in order to rectify your behaviour' as you mentioned it earlier. But as I've said before, I will _never_ hurt you. All the things I have you do today are in order to show you that I won't harm you or to help you regain some autonomy. Is that alright with you?"

Aziraphale had stopped talking and looked at Crowley who had not said anything during his little speech. To his horror, the demon had tears in his eyes and his hands were trembling once more, but his aura did not exude fright anymore.

Aziraphale took a cautious step forwards.

"Are you alright, love?" he whispered, gently taking Crowley's hand in his. The demon nodded.

"Yes Master, I'm sorry. I am merely- I do not deserve a Master as kind as you are, I don't know how I can ever begin to pay you back for all you've done for me. If there's anything at all you wish from me, I will gladly give it to you. I do not know how I can ever repay you and I do not deserve your kindness-"

Aziraphale hushed him with a gentle look.

"You don't have to pay me back, love. I don't want anything in return, I merely want you to feel better and safer around me. As long as I can make you trust me at least somewhat, I am happy. And I know that it will probably take a while and that is okay - there's no need to rush."

He squeezed the demon's hand softly. 

"And now follow me please."

//

Crowley wasn't sure what he was feeling.  
A lot of confusion, certainly because his Master was just inexplicably _kind_. He wanted Crowley to lower his guard, wanted him to trust him, and to Crowley's horror, it had started to work. 

Crowley had felt himself relax the slightest bit during their surprisingly pleasant meal and he had even _believed_ Aziraphale when he had said that he wouldn't physically harm him.  
  
He had believed the angel when he'd said that those punishments (and really, the name was laughable, what Aziraphale was doing was pure spoiling and Crowley didn't deserve this, he didn't and Aziraphale would realise that, too-) were supposed to help him feel more at ease. Because so far, the angel had not given Crowley any reason to distrust him. He had been gentle and kind and had not hurt him even once and by now, after years of abuse on Gabriel's hand, he longed for a gentle word, gentle touch.

And since Aziraphale was providing exactly that, it was so, _so_ hard for Crowley not to trust him, to beware of his Master. Aziraphale gave him what he'd secretly wished for for longer than he cared to admit and it was dangerous. Because Crowley could easily see himself starting to really trust the angel and if that happened, Aziraphale could hurt him even more than he could now. If he got under Crowley's skin, everything he'd do to hurt him afterwards could destroy the demon completely. There was very little that kept Crowley from giving up entirely and if Aziraphale managed to take that away from him, too, Crowley didn't know how he'd survive it.  


His thoughts were interrupted by Aziraphale who had come to a halt in front of him, in the middle of his living room which was, as per usual, littered with books.  
Aziraphale stepped aside and told Crowley to take a seat while he went to the book case, retrieving four books and laying them out in front of Crowley, who had watched the angel's movements attentively.  
Aziraphale sat down opposite to Crowley and pointed at the books.

"Choose one, my dear. I'd like to read one to you if that's alright with you. But of course, if you want to you could also read them yourself?"

Crowley looked at the books suspiciously, as if they were about to bite him.  
He took one carefully and read the blurb slowly, not used to it. His lips moved with the words and Aziraphale waited patiently until Crowley had finished it and picked up the next one. His movements were careful and deliberate and he clutched the books tightly, as if afraid that they were about to be taken away from him at any given moment.

Aziraphale gave him a few minutes to read through all of them. He was quite pleased with the selection he had given Crowley - only excellent first editions, all kept in perfect condition, obviously. He'd been careful about the themes they contained - no murder, nothing whatsoever to do with slavery and nothing too gruesome. Still, he couldn't leave out some of the classical greek myths, which he owned in form of a beautiful, heavy book. If Crowley were to choose these, Aziraphale would simply have to pick wisely which ones he'd read to him and which ones he should rather skip.

And indeed, after a few seconds of consideration, Crowley hesitantly pointed at the thick collection of myths.

"This one please, Master. If that is alright with you."

Aziraphale smiled, pleasantly surprised. He had always enjoyed mythology, to him it was interesting to see what the humans imagined divinity looked like. 

"Would you like to read it yourself or can I read it to you? I'd enjoy that and I do think that it might calm you down, but if you prefer reading them yourself.."

Crowley shook his head hastily. 

"No, Master, please read them to me, I'd be grateful for that. That would be very kind of you."  
He hesitated for a second.  
"Is there any position you would like me in?"

Aziraphale frowned. It was a strange question - why on earth would he care how Crowley was sitting when he was being read to?  
He told the demon just to sit on the sofa comfortably, which he did, and then Aziraphale positioned himself in a respectful distance from Crowley, the book in his lap.  
Absent-mindedly he snapped his fingers to dim the lights, missing Crowley's flinch at that.

Then, Aziraphale started reading.  
After the first few sentences he already remembered how good it felt to be reading to someone - to bring stories to life not only for himself but also for someone else.

In the dim, orange light of his living room, Aziraphale's words floated through the air peacefully. He had a voice that was easy to listen to and Crowley, who had begun relaxing the slightest bit into the sofa, felt his eyes slip closed a little.  
  
He felt peaceful and wondered if Aziraphale was even aware of all the calmness and positive feelings that were coming off of him in waves, making Crowley feel tired and safe.  
  
Crowley didn't really understand what the angel was reading to him (and for a moment he panicked - what if he would be asked afterwards, so that Aziraphale could test if he had listened, what if he'd be hurt for not having listened attentively?-) but Aziraphale's voice was soft enough to make his worries disappear almost instantly.

In some far, far away part of his brain he managed to wonder why Aziraphale was doing this. For him, there were two options:  
Either the angel wanted to lull him into a false sense of security only to hurt or mock him all the worse later on, or - and that was definitely less likely - he genuinely enjoyed reading to Crowley, letting him eat and make his own decisions. Maybe he _did_ only want the best for him, maybe he really wasn't out to hurt him.  
  
Crowley doubted it, but he also doubted that the first option was quite correct - it seemed unlikely, somehow. He was sure that if Aziraphale really wanted to give him the illusion of safety, he would have done it differently than by reading to him.  
After all, it was an unusual thing - it didn't serve any purpose, reading.  
  
Only that apparently, the angel enjoyed it. A lot.  
Crowley couldn't recall any other time in their short acquaintance when he'd seen the angel look more relaxed or happier. He was positively _glowing_ , a small smile stretched over his lips, his hair catching the soft light beautifully.  
  
If Crowley hadn't been so utterly tired, he would have berated himself for thinking such rubbish, for appreciating anything about his Master at all. He never would have let those thoughts even enter his head if he'd been any less exhausted.  
But as it was, the food, the dim light and Aziraphale's calming voice did their job perfectly and as a result, Crowley was growing more and more tired.  
Somewhere around the third myth his eyes slipped closed and he allowed himself to relax even further, sinking into the cushions, is breath evening out.

//

Aziraphale was enyoing himself tremendously - it had been a while since he had read to someone for the last time and he was glad that wile doing something he loved, he could simultaneously calm Crowley down a little.  
The demon had been dozing for at least twenty minutes now, opening one eye every few minutes only to close it again immediatly.  
It meant a lot to Aziraphale that Crowley let himself be so vulnerable around him. It showed him that despite the demon's terrible past, he felt at least somewhat safe around the angel, even if he maybe wasn't consciously aware of it.

Aziraphale tried his best to keep his voice even and calm as not to disturb Crowley's sleep. He had just reached the ninth myth - the one of King Midas - when Crowley woke with a start. The demon looked around in panic for a second before taking in the situation around him and slipping to the floor, landing on his knees.

Before Crowley could even open his mouth to apologise, Aziraphale began to speak in the same calming tone he had had during reading.

"Everything is alright, love. You're in my flat, you slept while I was reading to you and I am not angry at you for that. It was perfectly fine and I'm glad that you got some rest, yes dear? I am _happy_ that you slept. It means that I was able to calm you down and that you are rested. So please, do not apologise, since you did nothing to apologise for."

Crowley looked at Aziraphale wordlessly after he had stopped speaking and the angel could practically see the cogs turning in his head. After a few moments, the demon nodded slightly and bowed his head.

"Thank you for letting me sleep, Master. And for reading for me, it was-"  
Crowley stopped, clearly struggling for words, "it was pleasant listening to you. You're a good reader."

Aziraphale beamed at that, causing Crowley to blush and look at the floor in embarrassment.

"Thank you, love! Would you like to hear more or should we move on to the next, uh, activity? I wouldn't mind reading more to you."

At the mention of the last 'activity' as Aziraphale had so nicely phrased it, Crowley had stiffened.  
That was it, he was sure.  
Now there _must_ be some sort of punishment coming. The past two ones had doubtlessly merely been tricks to get Crowley to relax, to make him feel save and protected and he had fallen for it! Crowley suppressed a shiver.  
He had no idea what Master had come up with, no idea what awaited him.  
Even with his mind still dazed from sleeping, he felt panic rise up in him.  
Not knowing what Aziraphale might enjoy doing to him made this situation worse, it left him clueless and without any way of softening his punishment because he didn't know how to behave in order to appease Aziraphale.

Crowley had completely forgotten the words Aziraphale had said just minutes ago and felt a shiver make its way down his spine. He had been so stupid!  
How had he ever allowed himself to let his guard down around a _Master_ was beyond him. He knew what happened when he trusted people, he knew that he'd be hurt and beaten, knew it because he had had that lesson ingrained into him over and over again, with whips and fists and canes.

What method would Aziraphale choose?

Aziraphale.  
Crowley flinched as he saw his Master stand up. Oh no, no, no, had he said something which Crowley hadn't listened to? Before he could start apologising again, Aziraphale squatted down next to Crowley, placing a warm, heavy hand on his shoulder.

"Are you alright, love? We don't have to continue this now, or ever, I promise. If you want to skip the next activity, it is no problem at all, I swear. So if you rather wouldn't continue, I understand that, dear-"

"No!"  
  
Crowley flinched at his loud exclamation, bracing for a blow while talking, babbling hastily to explain himself.  
There was no way he'd let Master postpone his punishment. He doubted he would survive it if he did, he couldn't stand another three days of anxious waiting, couldn't stand the uncertainty even another hour and he also couldn't breathe, he had to breathe, he had to-

A gasp tore itself from Crowley's throat and he breathed in loudly, head swimming. Through the tears in his eyes he could see Master's panicked face and he forced himself to continue talking, to reassure his Master that he was ready, that he was ready to be punished and would take whatever Aziraphale wanted to give. Hell, if the angel wanted it, Crowley would thank him for everything he was about to do to him.

But Aziraphale didn't seem as if he was eager to hurt Crowley in any way, he simply looked extremely worried.  
His voice was gentle as he started talking again and the demon could practically feel the concern pouring off of him.

"Crowley, please believe me. I will not hurt you, I am not mad at you and I do absolutely not set out to harm you with these activities. I was not reading to you in order to confuse you or to harm you afterwards and I didn't want to harm you with what I was about to do next, love. I am not mad at you and I'm sorry I ever called what we're doing today a punishment, because to me, it isn't.  
I don't want to punish you, for you did nothing wrong but I thought it might help you if we called it a punishment. But please, please, you have to believe me when I say this: I won't hurt you. I will never hurt you. It isn't within my rights to harm you and I have no desire to do so."

Aziraphale looked close to tears, Crowley noted duly.  
Everything what the angel had just said sounded sincere, it sounded as if he were saying the truth and Crowley has scarcely felt more terrified in his life. He was starting to believe his _Master_ , was starting to believe someone who had absolute control over him and could do whatever he wanted to him.  
How sick and twisted was that?

Crowley was sharply brought back to reality when he felt Aziraphale stand up, now looking significantly calmer than when he'd been talking earlier.

"You don't have to trust me yet, Crowley," he said and attempted a shaky smile, "but I'd like to show you what I wanted to do next, yes love? It's called a bath, a bubble bath to be exact. You don't have to take it right now, but I'd like to show you, yes?"

Crowley nodded mutely and rose to follow Aziraphale.  
He didn't know what to think of this. He had made his Master _worry_ about him, for Someone's sake, and he _was not about to be punished for that._ Crowley felt confused and drained, emotionally as well as physically.  
  
He followed Aziraphale to the bathroom, which he had never entered before. As the angel opened the door, it gave way to a luxurious room with white tiles and a big bathtub filled to the brim with bubbles and water.  
Crowley stared at it in wonder. It smelled heavenly, like lavender and something fruity and the whole room was pleasantly warm. Aziraphale stepped aside to let him take in the whole room and Crowley noted a discarded coat in a corner of it, which Aziraphale seemed to have overlooked.

He walked over, still in awe of the bath and bent to give it to his Master, but as he straightened, something fell out of the coat's pocket.  
Crowley picked it up, still overwhelmed by the smell and general beauty of the room and noticed only after he had already handed it to Aziraphale, what the piece of paper he'd retrieved from the floor, was.

For a few seconds, Crowley could only stare at it in growing horror, while his body, as if on its own account, started shaking wildly.

The contract.  
  
He had just handed _the contract_ to Aziraphale.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops. Another cliffhanger <3


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Thank all of you lovelies for wishing me a good vacation, that was kind of you! And apparently it worked in your favour because now I can give you this chapter, about a week earlier than I thought I would.
> 
> I think there's something for everyone in here :) we've got angst, fluff, some misunderstandings, a slight crisis of faith on Aziraphale's part and emotional progress on Crowley's.  
> No, honestly, I hope you enjoy this chapter. It ended up somewhere wildly different than where I planned it to go, but I am happy with it (even though after like, the first quarter, nothing went accordingly to plan anymore).
> 
> You are all amazing and I am starting to sound like a broken record. Thank you all, so so much for your support. Every so often I doubt myself and this story since it is weird and strange, and you give me the motivation to continue it. (You don't want to know how often I was _that_ close to deleting or abandoning it.)
> 
> I do hope you enjoy this chapter and thank you thank you thank you again!!
> 
> Warnings:  
> Mention of choking and a panic attack/dissociation (I'm not quite sure if its the right word but I dont know how else to describe it!) on Crowley's part.  
> If you want to skip the mention of choking, stop reading after "seeing as the angel didn't seem pleased at his suggestion" and start reading again when the paragraph ends, after "Enough".

Aziraphale took the sheet of paper from Crowley with a confused smile.  
He couldn't remember having had anything in his coat pockets when he'd worn the coat the last time, and the piece if paper didn't look at all familiar to him.  
As he unfolded it, the smile slipped off his face. 

**Concerning the demon A. J. Crowley**

Stood there in big, black letters. Aziraphale furrowed his brow. What-?  
His eyes flitted over the sheet. It was thick, creamy paper, which surely must have been quite expensive. It was only one sheet but as Aziraphale turned it, new words appeared on the other side. Huh. An enchanted sheet, then. He flipped it the other way round, back to its original position and began reading it, after having sent out an absent-minded wave of calmness to Crowley, who had barely moved since having handed Aziraphale the paper.

Fascinated, but no less confused, Aziraphale started to read.

**Concerning the demon A. J. Crowley**

_It has been decided that the demon known as Crowley shall be banned from the Depths Of Hell. I, Beelzebub, hereby give Archangel Michael the permission to do as she wishes with him._

The paragraph was written in jagged, clumsy handwriting with ink spilled over some words. Beneath it, there were two lines on which signatures had been placed - one in the same untidy style as the introductiory paragraph and the other in neat, tall letters, clearly spelling "Archangel Michael".  
Aziraphale sucked in a breath. Was that some sort of contract, which signified ownership over Crowley?

As the angel turned the sheet, another few paragraphs appeared.

_I, the Archangel Michael, hereby give the demon Crowley to the Archangel Gabriel as a gift for him to do as he pleases. He may use him in any way he wishes with three exceptions:_

_1) The demon Crowley may not be harmed irreparably, neither mentally nor physically (e.g. blinding, paralysing, amputation)_

_2) The demon Crowley may not be issued another corporal form_

_3) The demon Crowley may not be killed, nor may his corporal form or his wings be destroyed (see 2))_

Underneath those - quite frankly terrifying - paragraphs, there were once again two lines with signatures - Michael's and Gabriel's.  
As Aziraphale turned the contract around once more, he was surprised to see his own signature next to Gabriel's.  
The paragraph above it read:

_I, the mighty Archangel Gabriel, give the demon Crowley to the angel Aziraphale as a gift for his good deeds. He may do with him as he pleases. If he finds that anything has to be added to the list, he may do so._

Aziraphale's brow furrowed. He could not remember ever having seen the contract, much less _signing_ it. And other than that - what list was Gabriel talking about? 

As he turned the sheet of paper once more, it appeared and even after having just read the first few lines, the words made Aziraphale feel sick to his stomach. 

_• Crowley may be punished by withholding food and water, as well as items of comfort, such as clothes or blankets._

_• Crowley may be punished with force, such as hitting, kicking, etc. He may be humiliated if it is seen as necessary and may be made to beg._

_• He may be used in any way possible, such as a servant, a cook, an ambassador, a "lover" or scapegoat. He must follow every order his Master gives him._

_• He must address his current owner as "Master", unless they say otherwise._

_• He may not complain nor protest and only scream if so wished by his Master._

_• In conclusion: The demon Crowley belongs to his current Master with soul and body and must accept their every wish._

And underneath that, in smaller, neater handwriting, which Aziraphale recognised as his own:

_• Crowley may eat food at his own will, may sleep in a bed, may read or be read to and may do whatever he pleases._

The words were faint on the paper, barely legible, but they were there. How, Aziraphale had no idea. He was just as confused about how his signature had gotten onto the contract as to how it itself had even ended up in his coat pocket. But most of all, he was horrified by what the contract implied.  
Of course he had known that Crowley had been given to him as a gift and he'd quickly understood that the demon expected punishment and pain from him. But to see it all written down, to see that there were nearly no limits to what Crowley's previous "Masters" could do - and probably had done - that was horrifying.

Aziraphale turned the damned sheet of paper once, twice more and the sheer abundance of bullet points on the next few pages appalled him. The list was seemingly never-ending and from the few words Aziraphale allowed himself to read, it only got worse - on one of the last pages the angel found a detailed description on how Crowley could be punished if he "misbehaved".  
Aziraphale wanted to throw up.

He looked at Crowley, who hadn't moved an inch since he'd handed him the paper - and Crowley had to have known what it was. That also explained the distress that poured off of the demon in waves - Aziraphale had thought that the bath had unsettled Crowley so much, but he had obviously been wrong.

"Crowley," Aziraphale said carefully, hesitantly, "what is this? I mean, who came up with all of this - all those rules, those, those sick things? And why are there my signature and a bullet point in my handwriting? I have never seen this before."

Crowley stiffened at Aziraphale's question but answered nevertheless, quietly and with a quiver to his voice. 

"It's my contract, Master. It signifies that however owns me at the moment has absolute control over me and my body and may do whatever he wishes to me. Since I've been given to you as a gift, you are my current Master. By accepting me you automatically signed the contract and I assume that by letting me do certain things, a bullet point appeared on here, Master. My... my previous owner used to punish me in various ways and it was more practical for him that those would simply appear on the contract if he wished for the activities to reoccur instead of having to write them down every time. Therefore, he made it so that certain things which a Master wishes me to do or experience do not have to be written down anymore. It is enough if my Master simply wishes for the action to be repeated. The contract renews itself whenever a change is being made - that's also why it says 'Crowley' instead of 'Crawly'."

Crowley stopped at that.

He did not know what he had expected Aziraphale to do when he had handed him the contract, but the shock on his Master's face came as a surprise. Shouldn't he be happy, ecstatic even?  
  
After all, the contract allowed Aziraphale to do whatever he wished - it even suggested punishments.  
Crowley's chest tightened. He had received each and every of those punishments, some more often than others and the memories haunted him to that day.  
He didn't know how many Aziraphale had read of those, but if there hadn't been a single one that had made the angel happy, not a single one he wished to use on Crowley, it meant that he'd most likely come up with a punishment himself. And that was what Crowley dreaded more than anything else.  
  
Because _of course_ would Crowley have to be punished. He had kept the contract's existence from Aziraphale and that was nothing that could go unpunished. It was practical, mused Crowley bitterly, that the contract automatically gave Aziraphale a few options to choose from.  
  
Obviously, none of the things written on the contract were in any way desirable for Crowley and he wished desperately that his Master wouldn't ever feel the need to test out one of them. But on the other hand, with those punishments he at least knew what he had to expect, knew what to do, how to act. If Aziraphale wanted to try out a new method, Crowley would have no idea as to what he could do to lessen the pain, or even how bad the pain would be. He simply wouldn't know what awaited him and that uncertainty frightened him more than anything else.

And therefore, although the mere thought of it made him feek sick to his stomach, he decided he'd suggest to Aziraphale one or two of the punishments on the contract. He wanted to cry, to scream and hide at what he was about to do, but in the end, it was better that way, wasn't it? He _had_ to be punished after all, for not mentioning the contract earlier, his Master had to realise that, and Crowley would do everything to avoid a new, unfamiliar punishment - even if it meant suggesting a known one, all of which hurt more than he could even begin to describe.

But which one should he pick?  
Crowley was tempted to choose one of the less harmful ones, maybe one that would humiliate him but not leave him in pain for days to come. But then again, he didn't know if Aziraphale even liked humiliation, or if he would enjoy agony more. Crowley clenched his teeth.  
It was always better to go with a harsher punishment, because those meant more pain and more pain usually pleased his Masters. Or it had pleased Gabriel, at least.

And therefore, with terror consuming his every thought - and forgetting all about Aziraphale's promise not to harm him, or the calm that he had felt just minutes earlier when his Master had read to him - he bowed his head before speaking up again, quietly and with a tremor to his voice. 

"Master, if I may... I know I have to be punished for, for not telling you about the contract or not telling you about your... liberties in regards to me and my punishments. I know- I know I should have told you sooner and I apologise. If I could maybe, in order to.... to ensure that I am properly put in place, suggest some, some punishments from the contract?"

At that, Crowley dared looking up at Aziraphale, who had not reacted so far. The angel was simply staring down at him, motionlessly and without any decipherable emotion in his aura or face.  
Crowley took it as a sign to continue and breathed in deeply, reminding himself once more that it was better to select harsher, more painful punishments for Aziraphale to choose from.

He pointed at one of the bullet points, voice now trembling harder and was horrified to find that tears were welling up. He had no reason to cry, none, this whole situation was all his fault, after all!

"I- you could chafe my knees with sandpaper, Master, and then have me kneel in sea salt, for, for example. Or I could use the sandpaper, if you want me to!" Crowley added, seeing as Aziraphale grimaced at that.  
  
"I could kneel for however long you want me to, Master. Or," he added, seeing as the angel didn't seem pleased at his suggestion, "you could restrict my breathing, if you would- if you would enjoy that. My, uh, Master Gabriel enjoyed it - he said that I had grown so accustomed to my human body that I did actually think that I could- that I could suffocate. Which is true! I, I used to... I used to pass out, when he, when he did that," whispered Crowley, his hands beginning to shake as he remembered the terrifying feeling of not being able to breathe - despite the fact that he didn't _need_ to breathe. Gabriel had enjoyed a multitude of ways to slowly choke Crowley until he passed out.  
"You could use your hands, Master, or a, or a collar-"

"Enough."

Crowley's mouth snapped shut at Aziraphale's command, something he was grateful for, seeing as his voice had started shaking uncontrollably through his last few words.  
He didn't dare look up at Aziraphale, who, while his voice had been emotionless, was radiating anger.  
No, not just anger, _fury_.

Crowley wanted to disappear, his whole body starting shaking as he realised what Aziraphale's fury meant. He hadn't succeeded - neither of his suggestions had pleased his Master and now he would come up with a punishment himself and judging by his current state, it would be brutal. Crowley sucked in a harsh breath. He'd be lucky if he even _survived_ it, with all the anger and hatred that was pouring off of the angel in waves.

In a laughable, pathetic attempt at an apology, he fell to his knees, cowering on the floor. It wouldn't help him, he knew that.  
But at least it would prevent him from having to look his Master in the eyes and see the anger in them that was still pulsating in his aura.

/

Aziraphale could count the times he had been as angry, furious even, as he was right now, on one hand. It had only happened twice before and the angel had hoped that there would never come another situation in which he felt such terrible, all-consuming fury.  
  
The first time, it had been just after he had heard of the Almighty's plan to kill off _nearly every being_ except some lucky humans and animals allowed on Noah's Ark. Aziraphale had quelled that anger quickly, as soon as he had felt it, for it was no good to critique God's plans, even when they involved the murder of thousands of innocents. But still - after he had first heard of the Almighty's plan, a terrible, raging fury had cursed through Aziraphale, and bits of it remained even after it had all ended.

The second time had been not too long ago - he had been in Germany, right in the middle of the second World War. He had travelled there on his own free will, without a mission from Heaven, trying to help at least some of the hundreds that suffered every day. But whatever he did, it had never been enough. Daily, he had witnessed people of all ages, _children_ dying, screaming in pain or crying because they had lost a loved one. This time, his anger had lasted for days, fuelling him to help everyone he could before it finally became too much and he simply _couldn't_ anymore.  
  
Even an angel had limits, and Aziraphale's had been met - and crossed - over and over again during that terrible time.

 

And now? Now Aziraphale felt anger cursing through him, anger just as strong as the previous two times.  
Heaven had done this to someone _innocent_ ; angels had tortured someone only because he had done a good deed. Aziraphale nearly wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all.  
  
He himself had been praised, rewarded after he had done something good, something pure. But Crowley? Crowley had been punished in a cruel, heartless manner for doing something similar, for helping people. He had been through years of abuse for having shown mercy, for having shown kindness, the same things angels prided themselves for.  
And all because he was a demon.  
  
Was it really that unfathomable for Heaven and Hell that not every demon was a dark, evil creature? Was it that terrible that one had shown mercy?  
Aziraphale wanted to cry. Since the greatest irony, the greatest injustice, was not that Crowley had been hurt for helping, for showing kindness, but that he had been punished by _angels_ for it. Angels, who claimed to see the good in everyone, to be merciful and fair. Angels, who had proved to be everything but, and were cruel and terrible instead. Angels had hurt another being voluntarily, even enjoying it.

Aziraphale sucked in a breath and willed his tears and his anger away.  
It was to no use.  
No matter what he felt right now, no matter how badly he wanted to give Gabriel, Michael and all the others a piece of his mind, he had to concentrate on Crowley right now.

Crowley, who seemed on the verge of a panic attack, with his breathing shallow, eyes clenched shut and hands trembling.

Taking another deep, long breath, Aziraphale willed the anger to disappear from his aura. It took more effort than it usually did, but he managed with some difficulty and a not-so-small miracle.  
Then, he forced his aura to exude calmness and love, both of which he let wash over Crowley gradually.  
He didn't want to overwhelm the demon on his bathroom floor, looking fragile and oh so close to breaking, but Aziraphale knew that he had to read the damned contract if he wanted to find out if there was any way at all to release Crowley from this awful existence, from this servitude. 

Slowly, he picked Crowley and the contract up, careful not to hurt the demon as he carried him to the living room. It was better to leave the bathroom, Aziraphale figured, and go to a room Crowley was more used to and might feel safer in. 

//

Crowley woke up to a strange warmth surrounding him.  
For a few moments, he didn't dare opening his eyes but merely listened to his surroundings and tried visualising where he was. He was laying on something warm, and it felt as if there was a blanket spread over him. Judging from the crackling, there was a fire burning a few metres from him. Just as Crowley had reached that conclusion, whatever he was laying on moved, thus jolting him fully awake.  
  
At that, Crowley's eyes flew open and he took in his surroundings. He'd been right - there was a fireplace across the room from him and he was indeed laying under a blanket. But it was what- or rather who - he was lying on that was important.  
Crowley's heart seemed to stop.  
Aziraphale. He had been _sleeping_ , and no less sleeping with his head on his Master's shoulder and half of his body draped over the angel.  
Crowley opened his mouth, already forcing himself to stammer out an apology, anything to make this situation less horrible, when he caught a glimpse of what his Master was doing.

The angel was reading, nothing that surprised Crowley, not even in his sleepy, frightened state, but it was _what_ he was reading that had made him halt.  
It was the contract, if course it was the contract, Crowley had expected nothing else.  
But what he had not expected was that, from the look of it, his Master was reading one of the last pages of it, and that alone was enough to send Crowley's mind reeling and left his chest feeling constricted. He fought for breath.

One of the things about the contract that his previous Master had ensured Crowley knew - other than it renewed itself constantly - was that it only got worse the further one read. On Gabriel's list of punishments, the easiest and most bearable ones were on the first two pages. Not that those punishments weren't horrible in their own right, because they _were_ and most of the time, Crowley would have rather given up every piece of comfort he knew from this life than experience one of them ever again.  
  
But those were nothing against the ones that Gabriel had put on the last few pages of the contract.  
Most of them, Crowley had only endured once, but even so, he would have rather lived through all of the 'easier' ones time and time again before he was put through something that stood written on one of the last pages.

One of the pages Aziraphale was reading as of right now.

The angel hadn't seemed to notice that Crowley had awoken and he was endlessly thankful for that. Like this, with his Master unaware, he might be able to come up with a plan, a distraction, _anything_ to keep Aziraphale from acting on one of the bullet points. Because Crowley didn't know if he could live through one of those again.  
  
The memories of those punishments, of the pain, the agony they brought, was what had haunted him for days after he had started living in Aziraphale's flat. The memories still haunted him now, they were one of the main reasons why it was so hard for him to trust the angel. Those memories were ones he was sure he could never forget, and not only because he had scars littering his body, daily reminders of the horrors he had lived through, but because of the physical impact they had left.  
  
No, those punishments were etched into his memory and he doubted that anyone could ever remove them. 

Just as he had finished that thought, Aziraphale looked down at him, seeing that he was awake.  
Crowley stiffened, but his Master merely smiled and put the contract down on the coffee table. Before Crowley could open his mouth to say anything - and really, he didn't even know _what_ he was going to say or how he was going to beg - Aziraphale shushed him with a look and positioned himself so that he was now sitting opposite to Crowley on the couch.

The demon pulled the soft blanket closer around him in a desperate attempt to shield himself for what was coming. He didn't know what to expect and it made him feel restless and anxious. Fear and terror were raging in his body but Crowley didn't dare moving to kneel on the floor or even apologise, seeing as his Master had just indicated to him that he should keep quiet. And he would, thought Crowley, feeling his heart beating way too fast, if it meant that it would soften his punishment. Crowley sat still on the couch, barely even daring to breathe.  
  
He had no idea what the angel had planned for him. His hands started sweating as he noticed that he couldn't even get a glimpse of the angel's aura, he had no idea how angry he was, had no idea what to prepare for.  
Crowley felt helpless and suppressed a whimper. Aziraphale had been reading the last few pages of the contract, the last pages and those meant terrible pain, the always, always did-

"Crowley, dear, I do think we should talk about this."  
Aziraphale pointed at the contract which looked so small and utterly _harmless_ on the coffee table.  
Before the demon could say a word, Aziraphale held up a hand and smiled gently.

"Before you say anything and jump to wrong conclusions - no, I am not about to punish you, or hurt you. What I read in there..." Aziraphale shivered and Crowley felt a strong wave of disgust before his Master regained control over his aura. 

"What I read in there is disgusting and wrong. I would never, and I mean _never_ hurt you like that. It wouldn't be correct and I do not have the right to do so."

"But you do!"

Crowley saw his Master flinch in surprise, he heard the words come out of his mouth, but it felt as if he were witnessing this whole situation as someone else, merely seeing himself snap at the one person who quite literally held his life in his hands.  
  
Crowley felt helpless.  
  
What was Aziraphale trying to do? What he said, what he had said all along - that he wouldn't hurt Crowley, that he'd be kind and gentle and _merciful_ \- it didn't make any sense. It went against everything Crowley had ever learnt and he was so, so tired of being lied to.  
Distantly, Crowley was aware that he was being unbearable foolish, that he was lucky his Master hadn't hit him yet, or locked him up somewhere, distantly, Crowley was aware that he would face consequences for this - grave ones, if his Master's interest in the contract was any indicator - but he couldn't bring himself to care. He felt disconnect from his body, as if he were floating above it.  
  
He saw and heard himself snap words at his Master, who was still _just sitting there_ , doing nothing to reprimand Crowley, nothing. He heard himself spit out words that he had kept buried in himself for longer than he cared to remember.

"You have every right to hurt me; you held the proof in your hands just minutes ago. You know that you can do nearly everything you wish to me, short of killing me, it is your right. It was everyone else's right as well, and they all acted on it! Gabriel documented everything he did to me, everything, and I know you read it, and you can do whatever he did to me and more. So do it! Do it, hurt me, but stop lying to me! You're my Master, you can hurt me, no one will stop you. Do your worst, do everything this damned contract says, but don't lie to me! Please," Crowley's voice broke, and it felt as if he had been slammed back into his body, he was aware of what he was doing again. "Please don't lie to me."

Crowley felt weak and spent, after he had stopped shouting and he hunched in on himself, looking at the frayed blanket between his fingers.

He had snapped, screamed at his Master. He had accused him of lying, had accused _Aziraphale_ of lying, Aziraphale who had been nothing but kind and gentle to him the whole time he had been here. Crowley wanted to sob. That would stop now, he was sure. No matter how patient, how merciful his Master had been until now, he would surely not tolerate being screamed at, being told that he was lying. Crowley would pay for what he had said, and for once, Crowley himself realised that he deserved it.

Crowley felt Aziraphale move slightly on the couch and stiffened. Just because he knew that he deserved whatever his Master would give, it didn't mean that it would make taking the punishment any easier. Crowley suppressed a shiver. No matter how his Master had wanted to punish him earlier, the demon was sure that he had worsened it infinitely with his outburst.

Crowley felt a soft hand on his chin and looked up. His Master didn't look angry, but he knew that that didn't mean much. Some of his worst punishments with Gabriel had happened when the archangel had seemed completely calm.  
Then, Aziraphale smiled.

"My dear boy, I am so, so proud of you." Aziraphale's smile wobbled at Crowley's doubtlessly confused look.

"I'll let you feel what I am feeling right now, yes love?" he asked before a concentrated look passed over his face.

It felt as if the angel had released _all_ his feelings. Normally, only the strongest ones would be noticeable in someone else's aura, and up until now Crowley had only ever been able to feel a few of his Master's emotions in his aura. But not now. Now it felt as if a hundred emotions were bombarding him at once.  
  
Crowley was much too surprised to do anything else that stare in the distance as he felt what Aziraphale was feeling. The first few emotions Crowley could discern were love and care, as well as some sadness and sorrow. But there were also happiness and gentleness, intermixed with slight hints of anger and worry. But the two feelings that were the most prominent, that seemed to engulf Crowley and hold him tight, were entirely unanticipated. Instead of anger and hatred, or maybe some sadistic amusement which the demon had expected, love and pride wrapped themselves around him, almost as if Aziraphale himself was hugging Crowley gently.

And he was, realised the demon with a start, the angel had wrapped his arms softly around him, his head resting on Crowley's shoulder.

Slowly, and without really meaning to, Crowley raised his arms as well and hugged the angel back, tightly and with just as much care as Aziraphale was holding him.

____ 

In the end, Aziraphale slowly broke away from the hug and sat down in a respectable distance from Crowley. The demon still looked shocked and confused but Aziraphale figured that it was a million times better than the terror he had seen on his face before Crowley's outburst. 

Aziraphale was so incredibly glad that Crowley had shouted at him, even though it was probably a strange sentiment.  
But to the angel, there was not a single negative side to the whole incident, and if it had been appropriate, he probably would have thanked Crowley for it. But since he was very sure that something like this would only serve to confuse the demon, or make him second-guess himself, Aziraphale refrained from doing so. 

Instead, he sat up straighter and looked Crowley in the eyes. He appeared to be slightly dazed from the hug and Aziraphale couldn't help but wonder when Crowley had last experienced any friendly touch.

Aziraphale cleared his throat before speaking and he smiled gently, in order to ease any worries the demon might have.

"Crowley, dear, I want you to know that everything you just felt is true. I am proud of you for telling me what you think since it means that you are slowly starting to feel at least a little more comfortable with me. Every negative emotion you may have felt is not directed at you, I assure you of that. I do care for you, I want you safe and happy and as I said before, I will not harm you. And," added Aziraphale, almost as an afterthought, "I will continue telling you so, if it helps you." 

Crowley, who still looked a little lost, nodded slowly.  
Aziraphale didn't push, figuring that this was the best he would get.  
He hesitated a bit before speaking up again, not quite sure if he should bring the contract up, and risk frightening Crowley once more.  
But in the end, thought Aziraphale, he had to tell him and sooner was better than later.

"Crowley, dear, I know you saw me read the contract after you woke up, and what I said before still stands now. I am disgusted by what it says has been done to you and what it allows me to do. But I wasn't reading about those things when you woke up." Aziraphale grimaced.  
"I'd never willingly read those terrible things if I can avoid it and I am horrified that you had to experience them. But I did find out something important, Crowley."

At that, Aziraphale leaned forward and looked Crowley, who seemed unsure as to what he should feel or do, in the eyes, trying to refrain himself from grinning too broadly.

"It can be destroyed, Crowley. The contract can be destroyed and once it is, you're free."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't tell me this is a cliffhanger! It's noooot! :)
> 
> Just a heads up: I'm not planning on having them destroy the contract in the next chapter. Crowley will have to work through some issues before that and I want to include a few things that wouldn't work otherwise. (We'll see if any of those plans actually come to fruition - my plans have a habit of changing themselves)
> 
> But fom now on, we're on the road of recovery. It will probably have a few bumps and potholes, but we'll get there.
> 
> Have a lovely day!!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is all soft (at least for my standards). I do hope you enjoy it - it's definitely the longest one yet! Thank you for the overwhelming support on the last one!!!! <3  
> Please tell me where I made mistakes!

Crowley was laying on his bed, staring into the darkness, unseeing.

Aziraphale had bid him goodnight some hours ago and while the angel had presumably fallen asleep, Crowley had had no such luck.  
He'd been staring at the wall of the bedroom for hours now, his thoughts running circles inside his head, one chasing the other.  
He was still processing everything that had happened yesterday - from Aziraphale's strange, harmless "punishments", to him handing the angel the contract, Aziraphale reading it. And of course, his Master saying that the contract could be annulled, that he, Crowley, could be _free_.

A day had passed since that... revelation and Crowley still didn't know how to feel about it. He should be ecstatic, shouldn't he? Joyous, relieved, glad, anything. But all the demon could feel was a strange hollowness that had set in as soon as Aziraphale had told him that he could be freed. Aziraphale himself had seemed overjoyed and had obviously expected that Crowley would react similarily - but he hadn't.  
  
Crowley hadn't reacted at all, really.  
He had listened to what his Master had to say about how he could be freed, had nodded and thanked his Master over and over again, but emotionally, nothing had happened.

He felt hollow and empty and he did not know why. Wasn't this what he had wished for for years, decades even? Hadn't he longed to be free every night, back when he had been beaten black and blue regularly? 

Crowley rolled over to his side.  
Maybe he didn't feel anything because deep down he knew that it wouldn't ever happen. Oh, not for lack of trying on Aziraphale's part. The angel had been so proud and happy when he had found out that Crowley could be freed - a sentiment Crowley himself hadn't been able to share.  
It was hard for him to have hope when the circumstances of _how_ to be freed were so utterly impossible.

The contract clearly stated that in order for him to be free, for him to live without a Master, both he and his current Master had to be of the opinion that he, Crowley, _deserved_ freedom. And that was the problen, really.  
Because, to put it simply, he _didn't_ deserve freedom. And with time, Aziraphale would realise that, too.  
If the angel thought about it, he would see that Crowley had done nothing to deserve getting his normal life back, he would see that Crowley hadn't changed, that the very thing why his freedom had been taken away from him in the first place was still buried deep inside him - kindness.

The years of abuse that Crowley had suffered had scarred him, mentally as well as physically. They had changed him but they hadn't managed to destroy the kindness that lived inside Crowley, bubbling inside of him - a shameful, dirty secret.  
Crowley hadn't _really_ changed and therefore, he wouldn't, couldn't be freed.  
He didn't deserve it.

\--

Aziraphale was becoming increasingly worried about Crowley.  
The demon had reacted quite differently to his relevation than Aziraphale had thought he would, but at first the angel had chalked it up to shock.  
But by now, days had passed since Aziraphale had read the contract and so far, Crowley had made no move to talk about it at all.  
  
He had resumed his tasks - cleaning the flat, making sure that Aziraphale was as comfortable as possible, but he still kept asking for more things to do.  
Slowly, Aziraphale had gotten the suspicion that Crowley felt the need to prove himself.  
He wasn't quite sure if the demon himself realised it, wasn't sure if Crowley was doing it consciously. But to Aziraphale it felt as if Crowley's determination to attend to tasks around the house were desperate attempts to prove himself, tries to show Aziraphale that he was worth being freed.  
It made Aziraphale feel terrible, made him feel helpless and small. 

At first, he had wanted to help Crowley, make him realise that there was no need to prove himself, that Aziraphale would free Crowley either way.  
But now, a few days later, he had started to suspect that Crowley was trying to convince _himself_ that he was worth being freed, not Aziraphale.

The first time the angel had gotten that impression was after the two of them had eaten dinner and Crowley had done the washing-up. As per usual, he refused to let Aziraphale miracle the plates clean and wanted no help at all from him. Aziraphale had watched as Crowley had worked his way throught their glasses and cutlery, ending with their plates. The demon had cleaned his own plate first, scrubbing and rinsing it for minutes on end, washing the diswashing detergent off only to reapply it again. After about ten minutes Crowley had finally been satisfied with the plate, which had been clean a long time ago, and had moved on to Aziraphale's.  
And then, the madness had started.

Crowley had lathered the plate, cleaning it thoroughly with the sponge before washing the soapy liquid off with water. The plate, which had been practically gleaming, was clean as far as Aziraphale could tell but apparently, Crowley hadn't been satisfied. He had repeated the process, once, twice, three times. His hands had turned red from the hot water, the sink had been close to overflowing with soapy water and bubbles but Crowley still hadn't stopped. He had run the sponge over the plate more times than Aziraphale could count and after about five more minutes, Aziraphale couldn't stand it anymore.  
  
He had approached Crowley, gently taking the plate from him, closing the tap. He had ignored Crowley's half hearted fusion of an apology and a protest, instead making the demon a cup of tea while he sat at the kitchen table, hands balled to fists and shoulders hunched.

That had been three days ago and since then, Crowley had repeatedly gotten stuck on a task, insisting that he hadn't done it properly. And therefore, Aziraphale had come up with a plan.

Currently, the both of them were in the living room, Aziraphale reading a book, Crowley dusting off his shelves. As the angel shut his book a bit more forcefully than he had intended to, he saw Crowley tense before forcing his shoulders to relax.  
Crowley turned around to face Aziraphale, his posture straight and face unreadable. It seemed to Aziraphale as if the demon sensed that their topic of conversation was going to be an important one. The angel sat up a bit straighter, asking Crowley to sit down opposite to him.  
  
After he had done so, Aziraphale waited a moment before he spoke, collecting his thoughts.  
This conversation _was_ important. It was necessary for Crowley to understand that he needn't fear that Aziraphale would not agree to have him live as a free demon. Aziraphale thought that part of Crowley's new-found obsession to do his chores perfectly partially stemmed from the need to prove himself. Aziraphale guessed that Crowley felt the need to prove to himself as well as to Aziraphale that he was indeed worthy of being freed. The angel was sure that most of this was subconscious, was sure that Crowley wasn't even aware of what he was trying to do.  
But Aziraphale could see that the demon's continuous effort to do everything perfectly was starting to put a strain on him.

The past few days, Crowley had been more tired than usual, yawning whenever he thought Aziraphale wouldn't see it. He was often lost in thoughts and often Aziraphale had to call his name at least twice to get his attention. (Of course, the angel always acted as if it had been the first time he had said Crowley's name - he knew that it would only distress the demon if he knew that he hadn't promptly reacted.)

And therefore, because Aziraphale was getting worried about Crowley, he had come up with a plan. He had thought about it carefully, not wanting it to backfire like his last one had.

Aziraphale wanted to make Crowley feel a bit more comfortable, ease his worries at least a little and make him relax. Heaven knew the demon deserved it.  
Ever since Aziraphale had read the contract, Crowley had been brimming with an underlying nervosity and Aziraphale wanted to change that. Crowley needed a break, from his tasks as well as from the mindset of "Master / Servant" he had been in for years.

Aziraphale knew that if he eventually wanted to free Crowley - whenever Crowley started to realise that he was indeed worthy of being freed - he first had to give Crowley back a sense of autonomy. They had to start small, of course. Aziraphale thought that it would probably be best to begin with small 'exercises', working their way up.

Aziraphale shifted in his seat, leaning forward a bit.

"Crowley, love, I've noticed that you've been tense the past few days. I understand that the news must have overwhelmed you quite a bit and I want you to know that you may take as much time to process them as you need. And whenever you are ready I would be more than happy to help you destroy the contract. But until then there was something I would like to try. Is that alright with you?"

Crowley nodded slightly, still rigid in his seat and Aziraphale took it as a cue to continue.

"Well, I thought that maybe it wouldn't be a bad idea to get you used to living as a free demon again. I thought of some things, some execises I would like you to try out in order to prepare you for being freed. Would that be alright?"

Aziraphale smiled hopefully at Crowley, who was simply staring at him, eyes wide and posture stiff.  
Then, the demon nodded.

"Whatever you wish, Master."

Aziraphale's smile lessened a bit. This was not the answer he had hoped for. Of course he hadn't expected Crowley to be overly enthusiastic, seeing as he didn't know what to expect, but he had hoped for something else than just obedience.  
But it didn't really matter, reminded Aziraphale himself, looking at Crowley, who still seemed nervous and tense. What did matter was that Crowley had agreed, which meant that Aziraphale could theoretically start right now with the first 'exercise'.

He smiled at Crowley again. The first task was objectively an easy one but Aziraphale knew that it would most probably exhaust Crowley quickly. 

"Why don't we start right now, my dear?"  
Aziraphale waited for Crowley's answering nod. The angel was quite happy with their progress, actually. Even if Crowley had been tense and nervous the past few days, Aziraphale knew that it could have been so much worse. He took it as a sign that the demon was slowly starting to trust him.  
The angel had not felt terror in Crowley's aura for quite some time, an emotion which had been almost overpowering in the first few weeks Crowley had spent with him.  
Even though Crowley might not believe that he would actually be freed, he at least wasn't living in terror anymore. Aziraphale counted it as a success.

"The first _execise_ , if you will, will serve to help with rebuilding your independence, love. I will ask you some questions now and I want you to answer them honestly. Say no to them if you do not want to do whatever I ask of you, or if you do not want me to do what I asked about. Is that fine by you?"

Crowley had gone very, very still. He barely seemed to be breathing anymore and for a moment Aziraphale was worried that the first task would already bring him to his limits. He wouldn't blame him - after all, Crowley had his free will taken away from him for years upon years and now being asked to do something that went against everything he had learned over the past years must be a terribly difficult thing for him to do. Aziraphale wasn't quite sure if Crowley would be able to do it, if he was being honest with himself.

He had just opened his mouth to tell the demon that he didn't have to start with this exercise, that they could begin with another one, when Crowley spoke up.

"I will try it, Master. Aziraphale. I... I cannot guarantee that I will be, I... I cannot guarantee that I will manage, but I would like to try, Master. Just..." Crowley's voice became quieter and he averted his eyes, "Just, I'd ask of you not to be too angry if I do not manage right away. Please, Master."

Crowley was still avoiding Aziraphale's eyes, but the angel was proud beyond belief nevertheless. Crowley had _asked for something_. It must have taken a lot of effort for him, Aziraphale was sure of that, but Crowley had spoken up on his own and Aziraphale felt more proud than he probably should have. This was the second time in a few days the demon had voiced his own opinion - the first time being when he had screamed at Aziraphale the day the angel had read the contract - and Aziraphale was glad that he had dared to do so.  
He took it as a good sign and was quick to reassure Crowley.

"Don't worry, my dear boy, I won't be mad if you find you cannot do it. It was just an idea, but if you need a break or if it doesn't work out, we can either take a break or move on to another exercise, yes love?"

Crowley nodded. He seemed a little more relaxed now and straightened in his seat, leaning forward a bit.  
Aziraphale placed a hand on Crowley's, a gentle reminder that he didn't need to be afraid.

"Alright love. I'll start now, but please do tell me if you want stop. Don't be afraid, I won't hold it against you, I promise. The first question is an easy one. How are you feeling today?"

Aziraphale watched as Crowley thought about the question. He was quite sure that no one had asked the demon any questions in a long time and he wanted to make sure that Crowley got used to them again. He wanted to make him feel like a person again, not some sort of property. Crowley was hesitant to answer, apparently carefully thinking about it before actually answering

"I am fine, Master. A little tired but other than that, I feel perfectly well. Thank you for asking."

Crowley ducked his head, missing Aziraphale's pleased smile.

"Thank you, my dear. I appreciate your answer. Now, did you enjoy your food today?"

That morning, the two of them had eaten some fruit and yoghurt, something which Crowley had not previously had. But if the faint glimmer of enjoyment in his aura was anything to go by, the demon had a sweet tooth, something which Aziraphale made sure not to forget. If he could make Crowley that happy with some fruit, he must introduce him to cake soon.

Crowley's answer interrupted his thoughts with a quick, short answer.

"Yes, Master. Thank you for letting me eat."

Aziraphale smiled gently, moving on to the next question.

For a while, he asked easy questions, all of which Crowley either answered with a 'yes' or one to two short sentences.  
After the sixth question of that sort, Aziraphale thought that he could safely move on to the questions he knew Crowley would answer with a 'no'. Still, he started off with a harmless one, not wanting to scare Crowley.

"Crowley, love, do you like reading books yourself more than me reading them to you?"

Crowley, who had relaxed slightly over the course of the past few minutes, hunched his shoulders and averted his eyes.  
He toyed with the cushion in his hands, flipping and turning it. Aziraphale waited, not pressuring the demon.  
After some more seconds, Crowley shook his head the slightest bit.

"N- No, Master. I enjoy you reading to me more than I do reading myself." He hesitated before continuing, voice only slightly wavering.  
"Thank you for doing that for me, Master. It is more than kind of you."

Aziraphale smiled and squeezed Crowley's hand softly.  
"You're welcome, love. It's my pleasure. You did very well and I am proud of you for answering that question honestly. Do you think you could answer some more?"

Aziraphale waited for Crowley's nod before continuing with other easy questions, some of which the demon answered with 'yes', others with 'no'. Whenever the latter was the case, Crowley became visibly uneasy and his voice wavered but he still answered every question honestly, as far as Aziraphale could tell.

After a while, Aziraphale dared to move on to harder questions. He watched Crowley attentively, careful not to overwhelm the demon.

"Crowley, is there anything you wish me to do for you? If you have any wishes at all, please feel free to tell me."

Crowley shook his head.

"No, Master. I am more than grateful for what you have allowed and given me and I could not wish for anything else."

Aziraphale nodded.  
"Thank you, love. Now, is there anything you do _not_ wish me to do? Am I making you uncomfortable somehow?"

This time, Crowley shook his head quicker and more forcefully.  
"No, Master. As I said, I am very grateful for the kindness and mercy you have showed me so far and I do not know how I will ever repay you for it. Please... I beg you not to feel as if you have to hold yourself back in any way or as if you were making me uncomfortable. You aren't, Master, everything you have done to me and for me was more than I deserve."

Crowley had leaned forward during his little speech, clearly trying to convince Aziraphale that there was nothing he would ever complain about.  
The angel was a bit taken aback by Crowley's sudden panic and determination to convince him, not having expected that reaction.  
He cleaned his throat, at a loss for words.

"Thank you, Crowley. But please know that if I ever do anything to make you feel uncomfortable or pressured, you can tell me and we will see about fixing it. Promise me that you'll tell me if I ever hurt you unintentionally."

Aziraphale had gotten serious. He was still a little confused by Crowley's severe reaction to his prior question, unable to explain why exactly the demon had reacted that way. Did Crowley think that Aziraphale would punish him if he dared to criticise him? It wasn't that far-fetched, mused Aziraphale if he took into account what the contract said Crowley had been punished for in the past.

Aziraphale cleared his throat, smiling encouragingly at Crowley.

"This will be the last question, my dear. You did very well and I am proud of you. Thank you for answering honestly, I really do appreciate it. Now," Aziraphale paused for a moment, collecting his thoughts and already bracing himself for the answer that was about to come, "tell me, love, do you like being here?"

Aziraphale leaned back in his chair, wanting to give Crowley - and himself - a bit more space. He wasn't sure what exactly had made him ask that question. He knew the answer already - he was just another Master for Crowley and no matter how kind or 'merciful' he was being, Crowley would surely never feel truly comfortable around him. Aziraphale _knew that_ but still, he couldn't help but hope that Crowley didn't despise being here as much as he doubtlessly had hated living with his other Masters. Aziraphale didn't expect him to enjoy living in his flat, not by a long shot, but he still had to ask the question. He needed at least some reassurance that Crowley felt somewhat safe, somewhat comfortable around him.

Crowley shifted in his seat, his eyes darting around nervously. His fingers were drumming against the armrest of his chair and he looked nervous, if not afraid. Aziraphale was just about to reassure him that he didn't need to answer the question if he didn't want to, when Crowley spoke up, voice barely audible.

"I do, Master. I... I like living here, you... you are very kind to me and I feel protected. I..." Crowley shook his head, interrupting himself, "I feel safe here, Master. You are kinder to me than I deserve and I do like living with you."

The demon didn't look Aziraphale in the eyes, instead looking over the angel's shoulder at his bookcases.  
Aziraphale himself felt as if he were about to tear up.  
He hadn't expected that kind of answer and was a bit overwhelmed, to say the least. He took a moment to regain his composure, planning to sort out his feelings later, before taking Crowley's hand into his again, smiling softly.

"Thank you, Crowley. Hearing this really does mean a lot to me. For what it's worth, I also enjoy living with you and I am very glad that you like being here. Please know that I will do whatever is in my power to make you feel safe and comfortable here with me."

Aziraphale let the slightest bit of reassurance and happiness seep into his aura, making sure that Crowley noticed it.  
When the demon gave a nod and a small, fragile smile, Aziraphale rose, taking Crowley's hands in his.

"Come, love. If it's alright for you I'd like to try out that bubble bath again."

 

/

 

Crowley was still feeling a bit shaky as he followed Aziraphale to the bathroom. Answering the angel's questions had been more exhausting than he had expected it to be. It had taken him a lot of effort to answer some of them with 'no'. With all of his previous Masters even _thinking_ about disagreeing with them would have been a sure way to get punished. Crowley was still somewhat wary of Aziraphale, not trusting him entirely not to turn around and punish Crowley for disagreeing with him.  
  
But as bad as the questions had been, as afraid he had been to answer them with 'no', they were nothing compared to the last one. This one, Crowley had not expected and he had noticed that Aziraphale himself had seemed surprised by it.  
  
For a moment, Crowley had panicked, not sure what answer his Master wanted to hear. He hadn't wanted to upset his Master or make him think he was lying, but at the same time, he wasn't even sure what the honest answer _was_. Did he like living with the angel? Yes, of course, it was far, far better than living with his previous Masters. But that didn't necessarily mean he actually _liked_ it.  
Crowley had let himself think about this answer longer than the other ones, not wanting to make a mistake. 

To say that he actively enjoyed living here wouldn't be... wrong, exactly, but a bit of a reach. But he didn't _dislike_ it, either. Living with Aziraphale was almost pleasant at times - for example when the angel had read to him or when they had eaten together. Those were almost fond memories to Crowley, but of course there also were negatives to living here. Granted, most of them were Crowley's own fault but still, the panic that took hold of him all too often made living at the angel's place a bit less pleasant.  
  
Still. Overall, Crowley was very, _very_ lucky to live with Aziraphale. The angel was kind to him and after years upon years of abuse, that meant the world to Crowley. He had struggled to answer but in the end, there was only one correct answer, wasn't there?  
  
After all, Crowley would benefit from pleasing Aziraphale with his answer, it could not hurt to flatter his Master. And it wouldn't be a lie, either, it wouldn't, it wouldn't. And therefore, Crowley had said what Aziraphale wanted to hear, partially out of self-preservation, partially because it was - even though it was not something Crowley liked to admit even to himself, in the privacy of his own mind - true. It was true and that frightened Crowley beyond belief.

Right now, however, he did not have time to think about the issue further. Right now, he had to concentrate on the task at hand.

A bath.

His Master wanted him to _take a bath_.  
Crowley hadn't entered the bathroom since the... incident a few days ago but the sight of the bathtub made him uneasy nevertheless. At least there was no discarded coat in the corner if the room anymore. And apparently Aziraphale had chosen a different scent for his bath than the last time - now, it was something that smelled more like citrus than the flowery smell of lavender from a few days back. 

Crowley was standing in the middle of the room, unsure as to what to do with himself. Was he to undress in front of his Master? Aziraphale had given no hints as to what he would like Crowley to do and the demon felt confused and a little afraid, uncertain of how he was supposed to proceed.  
  
Did his Master want to bathe with him?  
A shiver ran up Crowley's back at the thought, memories he had wanted to forget resurfacing - him on his knees in front of a pristine white bathtub, Gabriel's hand gripping his neck. Then, the feeling of being pushed under water, being held there, struggling to get air, to breathe, trashing around wildly, because he couldn't breathe, he needed to _breathe_ and there was water in his nose, mouth, lungs-

"Crowley."

Crowley flinched, turning around hastily to look at his Master.

"I am sorry, Master, I was remembering something, I didn't mean not to listen, I-"

Aziraphale shushed him gently.

"It is alright, my dear, I am not mad. But," he frowned at the bathtub, "if the thought of taking a bath makes you uncomfortable, we can always do something else should you wish to."

Crowley shook his head, not quite daring to look Aziraphale in the eyes.  
He couldn't make Aziraphale think of another task for him, he had already inconvenienced his Master more than enough. And if he refused the bath, Aziraphale would know a sure way to hurt or at least frighten Crowley. Crowley had to take the bath, if only to avoid it being used as a punishment in the future.

"No, please, Master, I would like to try. You don't have to think of something else, if you allow, I would, I would like to bathe."  
He hesitated for a second.  
"Should I, would we bathe together?"

Crowley couldn't help but worry about Aziraphale's answer. While the thought of taking a bath alone was somewhat pleasant, the idea of bathing with his Master sent shivers down his spine. He had remebered terrible details from his life with Gabriel from seeing the bath alone, and he did not wish to find out which memories would resurface were he to bathe with Aziraphale.

Luckily, the angel shook his head.

"No, my love, I would prefer not to. I am not too fond of bathing myself but I do think that you might enjoy it."

Aziraphale moved, walking past Crowley, busying himself with the taps.

"You can adjust the temperature here if you'd like to. Feel free to use whichever soap you'd like to - there are also bath bombs and shampoo over there," he pointed at a small cabinet, easily in reach, "and the towels are hanging over that rack there."  
Aziraphale took a step back, smiling at Crowley, hands folded behind his back.

"Do you need anything else? Do you have any questions?"

Crowley licked his lips slightly nervously before answering.

"Yes, Master. For how long am I permitted to bathe? How long should I take?"

"Take as long as you want to, my dear. There's no time limit - if you'd like to, you could stay in the tub the whole day. If you ever need anything at all, just call for me, I'll be outside, reading."

Crowley nodded and watched as Aziraphale left the room, closing the door softly behind him.

For a few seconds, the demon merely stood there, looking at the door, before he slowly turned, facing the bathtub instead.  
He didn't undress right away, still not quite able to shake the feeling of panic that had taken over when he had remembered one of Gabriel's punishments. Instead, he walked over to the bathtub slowly, carefully dipping a finger into the water. It was pleasantly warm, not too hot, and the bubbles felt nice against his hand.  
This was nothing like the freezing cold water Gabriel had forced his head under. This was pleasant and warm, smelling like lemons and oranges, and it was _safe_. His Master wasn't in the room with him, Crowley was all alone and no one was there who could force his head under water.

Hesitantly, Crowley dipped his forearm in the water, the bubbles tickling his skin. There were a lot of bubbles, so many that Crowley was sure one would not be able to see his body when he was lying in the tub. He wondered if that had been Aziraphale's intention when he had prepared the bath.  
  
Crowley threw a quick glance at the bottles of soap, shampoo and other things he couldn't quite identify. They confused him since he didn't know what exactly they were used for. He hadn't ever taken a proper bath, seeing as neither angels nor demons needed it like humans did, and all the things necessary for one floored him.  
  
The bath bombs, however, Crowley inspected closely.  
There were three of them, in various colours and shapes and they even differed in scent, Crowley found out as he carefully smelled at them.

Crowley picked up the first one. It was shaped like a tree, green and brown, smelling slightly of citrus. The one next to it was the smallest one, a bright blue bottle. It was light and fit comfortably in Crowley's hand.  
The last one was a regular round one, yellow with specks of black in it. It was by far the heaviest and smelled like myrtle and lemon. Crowley sat the bath bomb back down, stepping away from the tub and began undressing.

The uncomfortable tingling in his neck had stopped and his breath as well as his heartbeat were going at a normal speed again. He undressed quickly, putting his clothes neatly folded on the floor and got into the tub before he could talk himself out of it.  
The water was warm and the bubbles felt slightly weird against his skin. He lowered himself into the water carefully, not wanting to splash any water onto the floor and risk making his Master mad.

Crowley stretched out his legs, enjoying the warm water and the pleasant, citrusy smell. He felt his muscles relax almost involuntarily, not quite able to keep himself alert now that he was actually in the bath. 

From his position he could see all the products lined neatly on the edge of the tub, but he didn't dare use any of the soap or shampoo. He didn't need them, anyway - demons (and angels, for that matter) did not need to clean themselves like humans did.   
A bath was a mere luxury, seeing as their bodies and hair didn't need to be washed in order to stay clean. Still, Crowley picked up the small bottle-shaped bath bomb again, toying with it.  
He let himself think about dropping it in the water, just to see what would happen. He had never used a bath bomb before and was curious as to what it would do, exactly. Would it create more bubbles? Or would it colour the water a lovely blue, and if so, would it smell?  
  
Crowley didn't dare using it - or any of the other products - in case his Master had changed his mind, but merely thinking about using it gave him a sense of happiness and freedom he hadn't felt for a long time.  
It was his _choice_. He could chose whether to use something, whether to do something, and there was no one who would make the choice for him.  
It was thrilling.

Crowley set the bath bomb down again and leaned his head against the edge of the tub. He felt his eyes slip closed, gradually relaxing in the warm water.  
Crowley let his mind wander in a way he hadn't allowed himself to in a long, long time. He felt safe, somehow, here in this bathtub that was alone his, in a room with no one else inside it who could tell him what to do and not to do.

He thought about the events of the past few days, about the contract and its implications. It felt as if his mind were going in circles, the same thoughts over and over again.  
  
Crowley was still convinced that he wouldn't be freed. He _knew_ it, and with time, Aziraphale would also understand that he was not deserving of freedom. The angel might still think Crowley of being worthy of being freed, but Crowley knew that as soon as Aziraphale found out that he hadn't changed, that he was still _kind_ inside, his opinion would change.  
And even if he were freed, where should he go?  
Crowley had no one to turn to, no place to go. There was no one who cared about him, no one who would welcome him with open arms. He was alone.

The water splashed as Crowley moved, sitting up as if to shake off the thought. It was to no use - he wouldn't be freed either way, why should he worry about it?  
He was only encouraging that hopeful feeling that had started to bloom days ago, and ignoring the knowledge that he didn't deserve freedom. Gabriel had made sure that Crowley knew how underserving he was, Gabriel had made sure by punishing him, hurting him, humiliating him. Gabriel never would let Crowley be freed, he wouldn't, Crowley would never be free, not if the Archangel had anything to say in that matter. Gabriel would rather kill Crowley than ever let him go.

At that thought, an uncomfortable feeling spread in his gut, almost like pain. It made it harder for him to breathe, and Crowley's fingers clenched around nothing.  
He had to think of something else, quick quick quick, he couldn't let himself panic in the tub, he couldn't, he couldn't-  
Crowley sat upright, water splashing over the edge of the bathtub. He flinched, knocking his knee painfully against the tub, and the pain brought him back.

Crowley gasped, his hand shooting up to grab at his throat, he could breathe again, he wasn't drowning, he wasn't dying, he could breathe and he was still alone. No one was out to get him.  
  
No one would punish him by nearly drowning him, Gabriel wasn't his Master anymore and Aziraphale... Aziraphale had said he wouldn't disturb Crowley's bath.  
Aziraphale had been kind and merciful and Crowley was just being a burden to him.  
He was the angel's ~~slave~~ servant and here he was sitting in a bathtub, making Aziraphale care for him, tend to him, instead of the other way round.

Crowley stood up, nearly slipping in the tub and got out, the rug soft under his feet. He took a towel hastily, it was even softer than the rug, and started drying off, with quick, choppy motions.

He had to make it up to Aziraphale somehow, he had to find the angel and thank him for all his kindness, show him that he was ready to serve, ready to please. He had to show Aziraphale that he wouldn't need send Crowley ~~back to Gabriel~~ away, that he would be good, that Aziraphale didn't need to set Crowley free. Crowley was safest with his Master, and if Aziraphale decided to free him, he would have nowhere to go.

Crowley put on his clothes, mopping up the water he had spilled on the floor perfunctorily. 

He couldn't waste any more time than he already had.

//

Aziraphale looked up from his book at the sound of the bathroom door opening.  
Crowley was standing in the doorway, his hair still wet and curling at the ends.  
He didn't do anything for a few moments, just watching Aziraphale with almost imperceptible tremors making their way down his body.

"I finished bathing, Master," the demon croaked after another few seconds had ticked by.

Aziraphale smiled and got up.

"I can see that, love. Did you enjoy it?"

Crowley nodded, his eyes watching Aziraphale's movements carefully. The angel stopped a few paces in front of him.

"Did you wash your wings, too?"

Crowley actually, physically took a step back, half stepping in the bathroom again.  
His wings? He should have washed his _wings?_  
But his Master had never said so, Crowley had never been told what he was supposed to do! Aziraphale couldn't be mad at him for that, not when Crowley hadn't known he was supposes to wash his wings, too.  
Realistically, of course, Crowley knew that Aziraphale could very well be mad because of Crowley's oversight, had every right to be mad because Crowley should have known. It was Crowley's obligation to fulfil his Master's every wish and it was his fault he had not done what his Master had wanted him to.

He shook his head slowly, looking at the floor.

"No, Master. I'm sorry for not doing so. I should have known."

Aziraphale raises both eyebrows at that. What? He simply had asked because ever since Crowley had started living with him, he had never once seen the demon's wings. Not that this was unusual - wings were a pretty private matter, after all - but Aziraphale knew that even a demon's wings needed to be groomed every now and then. And what better time or place than in the bath tub?

But if Crowley hadn't... Oh!  
Maybe Crowley was used to his Masters doing it for him? Aziraphale could not quite imagine it, since grooming another angel's (or demon's, for that matter) wings was a sign of deep trust. But maybe his previous Masters had done it for - or to - Crowley to take even that bit of autonomy from him.  
  
It made sense, really. From what Aziraphale had learnt so far, Crowley's previous... owners would have done almost anything to humiliate the demon and it wasn't all too far-fetched that they'd also 'care for' his wings. Of course, the angel couldn't be sure - he'd have to look it up in the contract in order to be certain. But that was something he asolutely was _not_ going to do. It would only anger Aziraphale again and frighten Crowley. He had promised never to look at that damned sheet of paper again unless it was to free Crowley. Before that, it could rot in Hell, for all Aziraphale cared.

But right now, he had more important things to concentrate on than his hatred for Crowley's contract. Crowley's wings, to be precise.  
Should he really ask the demon if he, Aziraphale, could clean his wings?  
  
The angel wanted to, he wanted to see that part of Crowley, wanted to do sonething nice for him. It could be another step to make the demon trust him, but Aziraphale knew that it likely wouldn't play out like that. If he asked, Crowley would say yes, no matter what he might really feel. His wings obviously were a sensitive topic, but at the same time the demon still wanted to please Aziraphale in his (unwanted) role as his Master.

Aziraphale sighed internally. It was a conflict he had to solve himself. But even now he already knew what he'd do - he would ask Crowley to unfold his wings. If the demon seemed all too uncomfortable with this, Aziraphale wouldn't make him, of course. But he knew that after at least two months of not washing them, Crowley's wings must be feeling sticky and uncomfortable. Wings needed preening after all - Aziraphale cleaned his own monthly.  
  
He decided that there was no harm in asking Crowley - it could be the next 'task' for the demon and could serve to build trust between them. And, Aziraphale reasoned, he would notice if Crowley were absolutely opposed to it.

Crowley was still standing stiffly in the doorway, his body language defensive, his face expressionless.  
Aziraphale smiled gently, sending a wave of calmness Crowley's way and prepared himself for what he was about to ask.

"It is no problem at all, dear. But, if you'd be alright with it, would you be so kind as to show me your wings?"

Crowley felt as if he were about to fall from a great height with nothing but sharp rocks beneath him.  
What was Aziraphale's goal? Why had he asked if Crowley had washed his wings, why did he want to see them?  
Crowley's hands clenched to fists behind his back, then he relaxed them, only to clench them again seconds later. 

He had no choice, not really. If Aziraphale wanted to see Crowley's wings - for whatever reason - Crowley had to show them to the angel. But the thought of it alone made his skin crawl. He hadn't cleaned them since he had been given to Aziraphale, about one and a half to two months ago.  
  
His wings felt terrible, had been feeling like that for a while - gross and slightly sticky, in no shape to be seen, by his _Master_ no less.  
But Aziraphale had asked, and to Crowley, a question was always just a more nicely phrased command, and therefore he nodded. He had to obey.  
Crowley schooled his face into an indifferent mask, determined not to let Aziraphale see how uncomfortable he was.  
  
If his Master wanted Crowley to show his wings, Crowley would. He had to - to keep his Master happy and therefore himself from being hurt, but also because he owed him.  
Aziraphale had given him so much - Crowley could do that for him, no matter how terrible he might feel about it.

He nodded.

"Of course, Master."

The following smile that bloomed on Aziraphale's face almost made up for the terror Crowley felt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: The bath bombs are from Lush, I looked them up on their website. The blue bottle is called "A little bottle of calm", which is why I chose it - Crowley could definitely do with some calm. The tree should resemble the one in Eden and the yellow bath bomb is called "Cheer up Buttercup" which I found fitting for the story. I've got no idea what they smell like, though. :)  
> I hope you enjoyed the chapter!! (Next one will have wing grooming, obvs, but it won't focus on it. I just really wanted to use an idea a commenter left. And in one of the next chapters, another one will appear :)
> 
> Also: If you've got any small prompts for me you'd like me to write a Oneshot about you could leave them in the comments. (Or if you've got things you'd like to see in this story). I've got some free time at my hands and want to start writing a bit more. So if you've got ideas for a small, short story that you'd like me to write, you could comment them and I'll see what I can do about it. :) (I just don't write sex scenes, graphic violence and such).  
> Thanks!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the delay - life was incredibly stressful the past few weeks and I can only hope it gets better. I struggled a lot with this chapter, probably more than any of the others, even though I loved writing it. For some reason, though, I just couldn't get more than a few paragraphs done in one go, therefore it took some time.  
> Also, I am working on another Good Omens story (way longer than my usual Oneshots) at the same time, which didn't really help matters.
> 
> Thank you so much for being patient with me, I do hope that the next update will be quicker!
> 
> This is the first wing preening scene I've ever written (and it turned out so much longer than I intended it to) and contrary to what I said last chapter, this chapter definitely focuses on the wing preeing. Whoops.  
> I do hope you'll enjoy reading it, I definitely enjoyed writing the wing secenes, and I might write more in the future.
> 
> I hope you'll like the chapter!! :)

Aziraphale's wings were probably just about the softest thing Crowley had ever touched.  
They were white as snow and _big_ , bigger than Crowley's own. A good part of the living room was filled by them when the angel had finally stretched them out completely.  
Had Crowley been able to see the angel's face from his position behind him, he would have noticed his small, relaxed smile. As it was, Crowley only saw Aziraphale's back and his soft (if somewhat messy) wings.

Crowley himself had not unfolded his wings just yet, even though he was certain that his Master would want that to happen eventually. The uneasy feeling in his gut spread a little as he thought about it, and he resolutely shook his head to chase the thought away.  
He had a task to attend to.

His Master had asked him to _preen his wings._  
Crowley had hardly believed his ears when Aziraphale had requested it with a slight smile on his lips as if what he was asking was completely normal.  
But it _wasn't_ completely normal, that was Crowley's issue.

Letting another being see, let alone groom one's wings was a huge sign of trust in them. Some angels even used it as a way to convey their love for each other.  
Grooming another being's wings wasn't something you just _did_ , it was an almost sacred act. And that with good reason.

An angel's wings - and a demon's, for that matter - were the most vulnerable place on their body and also the one they took the most pride in. Especially demons tended to their wings frequently and with exceptional care. Angels too, of course, but it was more likely to see an angel with slightly ruffled feathers than a demon.

Crowley himself had had immaculate wings once, but that had been a long time ago.

He had rarely been allowed to care for or even unfold his wings under his previous Masters and he was sure that they were hideous, atrocious things by now, messy and dirty after not being cleaned properly for such a long time. His stomach knotted at the thought of letting his Master see his wings like that, especially since Aziraphale's own were, for lack of a better word, so _perfect_.

Soft and the purest white, with small specks of grey in them that reminded Crowley of clouds. Aziraphale's wings were unbelievably shiny and the feathers bigger than Crowley would have thought. Aziraphale's wings as a whole were a good few centimetres bigger than Crowley's own and doubtlessly also much stronger.

Aziraphale shifted slightly, interrupting Crowley's thoughts. He moved his back, stretching his wings so that they were just millimetres away from Crowley's hands.

"You can begin love, if you'd like to."

Right. Crowley had a task to attend to. Even if Aziraphale's voice had been gentle, Crowley knew that it was a order for him to start and he would not be asked twice.

Slowly, he lowered a trembling hand to the angel's right wing which twitched slightly at the contact.  
With his heart rabbiting inside his chest, Crowley combed his hands carefully through the wing, letting loose feathers fall to the floor. He made his way through the wing twice, having decided that he would start by removing all the feathers that were, while not connected to Aziraphale anymore, still hanging in the angel's wings. He stroked his hands through the length of Aziraphale's right wing, getting his fingers in between the individual feathers to ensure he was doing his job as thoroughly as possible.

After about five minutes of Crowley carefully combing his fingers through Aziraphale's wing, the floor was littered with small, fluffy feathers and the angel had visibly relaxed.  
Crowley felt faintly proud of himself. To him, it was always a relief to get rid of those unnecessary feathers and he found that wings looked better without them.

He moved a little, moving on to the next step of his preening. He shifted Aziraphale's feathers, untangling them from one another and laying them flat when needed.  
While doing so, he couldn't resist stroking over Aziraphale feathers gently. They were so _soft_. Crowley could hardly believe how smooth they felt against his hands, delicate but powerful.

He started with the ones closest to the angel's back, working his way outwards. He went from the top feathers to Aziraphale's mid-length tertiaries, working his way down to the angel's main flight feathers. Those were shiny as well, beautiful and strong beneath Crowley's hands. He smoothed out every single one, laying them in the correct position and making sure the angel's flight feathers were as clean as they could be. Crowley took extra care with them, feeling Aziraphale relax further under his ministrations.  
By now, he was slouching in front of Crowley, the tip of his left wing resting on the floor, the right one splayed comfortably on the demon's knees.

But the angel wasn't the only one who had become less tense. Crowley himself felt his breath even out a bit and the worry in his gut had begun easing with the repetitive motions. He hadn't cared for or looked after anything in a long while, and being trusted with something so _important_ was, although scary, also a very good feeling. It was the first time in centuries Crowley didn't feel as afraid, the first time he wasn't the most vulnerable in the room.

Now, Aziraphale, his _Master_ held that position. The thought struck Crowley and he stilled for a moment.  
He had power over Aziraphale right now, the angel was vulnerable under his hands. It would take so little for Crowley to harm him - he literally held his flight feathers in his hands, he could hurt the angel with a mere twist of his hand, if he wanted.

Crowley let go of the angel's wing as if it had burned him.

What was he _thinking?_  
He couldn't hurt his Master, he would never hurt his Master! Aziraphale had been kind and merciful, he hadn't harmed Crowley at all, and how was he repaying that kindness? By thinking about injuring the angel, about potentially harming him irreparably. About harming his _wings_ irreparably, the wings Aziraphale had so inexplicably trusted him with. 

Crowley felt sick.

He shifted, trying to find a more comfortable position, trying to clear his head. What had gotten into him?  
It was not like he'd actually ever hurt Aziraphale, much less his wings, but the mere fact that the thought had even entered his head frightened Crowley.

He had never thought himself to be a violent person and he didn't think that he was even capable of injuring someone else, especially this severely. And his _Master_ , no less!

Crowley took a deep, steadying breath, clenching his eyes shut.  
He let the air out slowly, trying to calm his heart down, before gently combing through the angel's wing again, trying to keep a pretence of normalcy.  
He couldn't let Aziraphale know what terrible, horrific thoughts had just gone through his head.

The angel had made himself vulnerable before Crowley, whom he apparently _trusted_ , and Crowley had all but betrayed him with his thoughts. He couldn't ever let Aziraphale know what he had been thinking, and for once, it wasn't out of fear of punishment.

No, the reason why Crowley had to keep his lapse a secret was out of fear of losing Aziraphale's _trust_. Crowley hadn't trusted anyone ever since he had been... given away, and automatically, no one had trusted Crowley, either. Why would they have? The only people Crowley had regularly come into contact with had been his Masters, and they rarely ever thought of him as a being with emotions, much less someone they could potentially put their trust in. 

And now, just when Crowley had found someone that for some reason did trust him (even if he had never done anything at all to deserve it) he managed to betray that trust simply by _thinking_. Crowley clenched his teeth.  
He didn't want that. He wanted Aziraphale to trust him and, in turn, to eventually grow to trust Aziraphale, too.  
He had to prove he was trustworthy, he had to prove to the angel that he was not what his previous Masters had tried to turn him into.

Carefully, Crowley resumed his task of preening the angel's wing. It was a calming, repetitive activity and he hoped that the monotony of it would clear his head.  
Crowley repeated his process on the left wing, first combing through it, then laying the feathers down in place in the most aerodynamic shape he could possibly manage to allow the angel easier flight. He did so tenderly, as if to make up for his thoughts.  
After about ten more minutes, in which Aziraphale had relaxed further and Crowley had tried his best _not_ to relax, not to let his thoughts wander again, he was finished.

He was just about to tell his Master so, when Aziraphale shifted just enough to hand Crowley a small bottle with a cap that was foreign to the demon. It was elongated and had some sort of lever underneath it. Seeing the demon's confused expression, Aziraphale explained the bottle to him.

"It's a spray bottle. I use it to clean my wings after grooming them and I'd like for you to use it. It's easy to use, just push the lever to spray my wings with water."

Crowley did as asked, his hands shaking slightly. This was new, he wasn't used to this. He flinched as the first spray of water hit the angel's wings, misting them. The water drops rolled over the feathers and Aziraphale twitched slightly.

"It tickles a bit, love." He said as a way of explanation. "Please do continue."

Crowley did, enjoying the sound the bottle made, and soon both the angel's wings were sufficiently wet. Aziraphale smiled and stretched, turning around to the demon.

"Thank you, my dear boy. You did an incredible job - my wings feel better than they have in ages." Aziraphale smiled gently as Crowley accepted the compliments by ducking his head, avoiding Aziraphale's eyes.

Then, the angel stood up and beckoned Crowley to move.

Aziraphale reversed their positions, sitting down behind the demon, with just enough distance between them as not to crowd the other. Crowley's shoulders were tense and his hands curled to fists by his sides, so tightly clenched that Aziraphale was sure Crowley must feel his own nails digging in his skin.

"You know," said Aziraphale somewhat hesitantly, "you don't have to show me your wings, love. I don't want you to feel pressured. I merely thought that I might help you with cleaning them since I know some places can be a bit hard to reach. And I'd like to pay you back for that wonderful preening job you just did."  
Aziraphale smiled as he spoke and let a bit of calmness and joy trickle into his aura, in the hopes of soothing Crowley that way.

The demon nodded mutely, his hands unclenching slowly. He was still tense, but Aziraphale could see that he fought very hard to relax. His mouth twisted downwards. Was Crowley forcing himself to relax for Aziraphale's sake? 

The angel had just opened his mouth to tell Crowley that it wasn't necessary, that he didn't have to groom his wings, when Crowley mumbled something, too quiet for Aziraphale to hear.

"What was that, love?"

Crowley shivered, just a little before answering, but it was enough to make Aziraphale grow even more worried.

"I- I haven't preened my wings in a long time and they, they aren't very... pleasant to look at, Master. Please, you don't have to groom them, if you'd be so kind as to allow me, I can also do that myself so you don't have to look at them."

Upon hearing these words, Aziraphale straightened. Crowley was still facing forward with his back turned to Aziraphale and the angel could practically feel the nervous energy radiate off of him. This wouldn't do.

"Turn around please, love."

Crowley complied, avoiding Aziraphale's eyes, instead looking at the sofa, focussing on a spot in between him and the angel. 

"If you do not want me to preen your wings love, I will respect that. But please don't be ashamed to show them to me. I know my wings have had times in which they were a mess, too, and I would never blame you for that. Especially not under your circumstances." Aziraphale's voice hardened a bit at that and he made a vague hand motion as if to encompass all of Crowley's previous Masters.

"But please do know that I would not think less of you or be disgusted because of the state your wings are in. You don't have to, of course, if you're uncomfortable, but I'd love for you to show them to me."

Aziraphale tried giving Crowley a smile, which went unseen as the demon was still resolutely looking at the sofa, his hands now toying with the hem of his t-shirt.  
Overall, Crowley had relaxed slightly and at least he wasn't digging his nails into his skin anymore, so Aziraphale counted it as a success.

After another minute of silence in which Aziraphale tried pouring a feeling of safety into his aura, Crowley nodded almost imperceptibly.

"You can groom my wings, Master. But please... please don't mock me for the state they're in."

Aziraphale ached as he saw Crowley hang his head as if he expected to be sneered at for his wish.  
He nodded firmly, smiling at the demon to show him that he would not hurt him.

"Thank you, my dear. If at any point you feel uncomfortable and want me to stop, just say so and I promise that I will immediately stop."

Crowley nodded once and turned around swiftly, his back once more facing Aziraphale, who shuffled back a bit.  
And then, with one soft 'whoosh', Crowley unfolded his wings.

Aziraphale couldn't hold back the gasp that escaped him. He had never, _never_ seen wings like Crowley's before.  
They were black like Aziraphale had expected them to be, as messy and ruffled as Crowley had predicted, with feathers pointing wildly into all directions, some snapped off in a painful-looking matter but other than that they were _breathtaking_.

Crowley's wings were a matte black, speckled with tiny spots of purple, grey, white and blue. They rippled as the demon moved, revealing more spots, distributed even over the feathers closest to his back. They looked like stars, whole galaxies even, spread over Crowley's wings like they were the sky at night. The tips of Crowley's flight feathers were a different colour than the rest - a deep purple which complimented the rest of his wings perfectly.

Aziraphale couldn't help himself, he raised a hand and touched Crowley's flight feathers gently, running his fingers over them. 

"Your wings are _beautiful_ , Crowley. I've never seen anything quite like them."

Crowley tensed momentarily and then relaxed, his wings folding slightly in on themselves.

Aziraphale shook his head.  
"I'm not lying, love. They're breathtaking."

He let his feelings seep into his aura to make Crowley believe him - a mix of wonder, adoration and pride.

Crowley shivered and Aziraphale trailed a hand down his left wing.  
The feathers were not nearly as soft as his own and had more of a leathery feel to them, but they seemed sturdy and powerful. They were not as big as Aziraphale's but in the angel's opinion, at least twice as beautiful. 

Aziraphale started combing through Crowleys feathers with exceptional care, detatching loose ones and disentangling the others. Crowley _shivered_ and sunk a bit lower in his seat, giving Aziraphale better leeway.  
He collected the soft feathers he had combed out in a pile on the floor. It was a far bigger pile than his own, seeing as Crowley had not preened his wings in months, possibly years. With time, many feathers had come loose and were just hanging in the demon's wings, useless and unruly.

As Aziraphale continued his job, the demon's wings started to take shape and became less of a mess. The fluffy appearance the unneccessary feathers had given disappeared, leaving behind tidier, sleeker wings. Aziraphale decided that he would tend to the broken feathers sticking out another time. They weren't many and while he knew from experience that they became a bit uncomfortable after a while, Crowley did not seem too bothered by them. Also, removing broken feathers that were still connected to the wing itself _hurt_ and Aziraphale had already put Crowley through enough for today.

After having told the demon about his plans which he had accepted with a nod, Aziraphale started untangling the rest of his feathers, righting them and smoothing them out.  
He oiled each feather, making sure they were smooth and strong instead of brittle and easily breakable. Aziraphale worked quickly and with nimble fingers, stroking every feather from base to tip to get them to align _just right_.

He enjoyed doing this for Crowley. The demon had relaxed significantly during the preening, now leaning almost bonelessly against the arm of the sofa. From time to time his wings twitched ever so slightly, especially when Aziraphale touched his flight feathers.  
After a few more minutes the angel had finished with his preening, (far slower than Crowley had, due to the state the demon's wings had been in) and Crowley was the most relaxed Aziraphale had ever seen him.

His aura radiated satisfaction which almost covered up the constant wariness and unease Aziraphale had grown so accustomed to, and he was slouched over, his breathing steady and muscles relaxed.

The angel smiled down at Crowley, once more admiring his wings. They looked like the nightsky, mottled with stars on a dark background. Now that they were clean and in order again, they looked even more beautiful.

Gently, Aziraphale shook Crowley's shoulder.

"Would you give me the spray bottle, my dear?"

Crowley did as asked, still relaxed on the sofa, and Aziraphale sprayed his wings quickly. The demon flinched as the first spray of water hit him and Aziraphale kept this part as short as possible, seeing as it was a foreign feeling to Crowley.  
Most of the water rolled off his feathers, dripping onto the sofa. The drops that remained on Crowley's dark wings sparkled in the light, like shooting stars in the night.  
Aziraphale gave the demon's wings a last adoring glance before sitting back and gently touching Crowley's shoulder.

"I'm done, love. Would you be so kind as to stretch your wings for me now? It'll help with aligning them perfectly."

Crowley turned, pushing himself up and did as asked. His wings rustled slightly as he stretched them out, either tip reaching the ends of Aziraphale's sofa.  
Crowley looked relaxed like this, and _happy_.

Aziraphale was happy too - happy that the demon had trusted him enough to let him care for him that way.

He sat up and unfolded his wings just as Crowley tucked his in.  
Crowley's sincere, slightly choked, " _Thank you,_ Master-" was interrupted by the angel folding his wings around Crowley in a gesture of protection.

"It is alright, my love. Thank you for letting me preen your wings. They are breathtaking."

\--

For a few minutes, the two stayed that way, Crowley resting his head against Aziraphale's shoulder, the angel's wings curled around him protectively.  
Their current position hadn't quite registered with Crowley - he was still dazed from getting his wings preened for the first time in months. He felt calmer than he had ever since coming here and the sensation of Aziraphale's soft wings around him felt nearly as good as the hug he had gotten from the angel a few days ago.

Crowley felt his eyes slowly slip shut. He felt tired. Getting his wings preened had been more exhausting than he had anticipated and he had not slept much lately. When had been the last time he had slept through the night? The past few nights he had been too worried to actually fall asleep and the bit of rest he was allowed to get now felt heavenly.

Next to him, Aziraphale shifted, his wings rustling, before he sat up abruptly. Simultaneosly, the shop's door bell rang (a different one than the one Aziraphale had previously had - he hadn't wanted to risk frightening Crowley again) and Aziraphale got up, a look of annyoance on his face.

Crowley hunched in on himself, afraid of directing that annyoance on himself. The relaxed, carefree atmosphere had vanished abruptly, leaving him with a feeling of intense anxiety.  
He should have known better! He should have gotten up immediately after Aziraphale had finished his preening. He should have made himself useful instead of lazing around, being all but a burden to his Master.

Aziraphale stood up, folding his wings away. He did not look mad but Crowley knew that it was not an indicator to what he really felt.

"I'll see to the customer, love, you just stay here. It will be quick - I don't usually sell my books."

He smiled at Crowley quickly, in a distracted manner and then turned to take the stairs, leaving Crowley to sit on the sofa alone.  
The demon pulled his knees up to his chest, hugging them tightly. His Master had told him not to move and therefore he wouldn't - no matter how much he wanted to go downstairs and aplogise to him.  
He could always make it up later to Aziraphale for being so lazy later, he decided, clenching his hands.  
He would have to, anyways.

 

/

 

The man who had come in the shop was young and looked stressed, holding a potted plant in his hands, out of all things.  
He shot Aziraphale a quick smile, setting the plant down on a miraculously empty bookshelf. 

"I uh, I was looking for a gift for my fiancee's father. I bought him this plant, but my fiancee told me he already has one of these, so I thought maybe he'd enjoy a book?"

The man looked around somwhat desperately, trying to navigate in the overstuffed shop. He seemed overwhelmed by Aziraphale's collection and by the way he kept turning to the shop's door, it was clear he did not want to spend more time than necessary in the bookshop.  
Aziraphale took pity on him.

"There's quite a lovely gift shop just around the corner where I am sure you'll find a gift he might enjoy. It's always a bit harder with books - the chance of buying one he will not like is rather high. I do think that the gift shop might be a better idea, they sell chocolates and wines and other things that would make for a lovely present."

Aziraphale's voice was kind but firm - he wanted the man out of his shop as soon as possible and he absolutely did not want him to leave with one of the books. 

Luckily, the customer's face lit up, and he thanked Aziraphale profusely, his hands fluttering around.

"Thank you so much sir, you're probably right and I don't even know what type of book he likes to read."  
He gave a small laugh, picking up his bag.

"Keep the plant, yes? See it as a thank-you gift, you really did safe me here."  
And with that, he opened the door again, almost running out of the shop in his haste.  
Aziraphale smiled after him, snapping his fingers. The young man would find a gift perfectly suited to his soon to be father-in-law's tastes in the shop, and at a reduced price, too.

Aziraphale went to the shop's door, flipping the sign to 'Closed', just in case any more stressed men decided to pay him a visit. On his way back to the stairs, Aziraphale passed the potted plant the man had left on the shelf.  
He picked it up, inspecting it. It was a nice plant with pretty flowers and lush, green leaves and he thought about a suitable place where he could put it while walking upstairs to the living room.  
He had never bought a plant before and did not know about what kind of environment they needed. Was it different for each type of plant? 

He was still thinking about it, when he opened the door to the living room, surprised by the sight that greeted him.

Crowley was sitting on the sofa exactly where Aziraphale had left him, with his knees pulled to his chest and staring off into the distance. His knuckles were white from him clenching his hands and he was worrying his lip, a feeling of stress and worry in the air around him.  
Aziraphale put the customer's plant on a nearby bookshelf before he crossed the room, coming to a stop in front of the demon. 

"Are you quite alright, dear?"

Crowley's head shot up at his Master's question. He hadn't heard the angel come in and he was already halfway off the sofa when he remembered that Aziraphale did not like seeing him kneel.  
He stopped, perched on the edge of the sofa, looking up at his Master.

"I, I am well Master, thank you for asking. Is there- how may I help you? Is there anything I can do for you?"

Crowley was well aware that his voice sounded desperate, but he couldn't quite bring himself to care.  
He had been _lazy_ , he had just sat there, thinking, instead of helping and serving his Master like he was supposed to! It didn't matter that Aziraphale had ordered him to stay where he was, he should at least have _thought_ of a way to be useful to the angel.

Crowley tensed as Aziraphale stepped closer to him, sitting down in a chair opposite to the sofa. The angel looked calm, if a bit pained and Crowley could not decipher what it would mean for him. What would his Master do?  
He was sure the angel would do _something_ to reprimand Crowley for being so lazy, to ensure that he would never dare lazing around again.

"Actually, yes, there is something you could do, love."

Crowley tensed before forcing himself to relax again. He deserved whatever was coming, he knew so, but that did not mean that taking his punishment would be any easier.  
He didn't look Aziraphale in the eyes, instead choosing to focus on a spot just above them.

"You could answer some questions for me, dear. I've never seen wings like yours before. So beautiful, I mean!" Aziraphale added hastily as he saw the shameful look on Crowley's face.

"I didn't mean to make you feel bad about them, and I assure you that while your wings are slightly ruffled, there is no irreparable damage. But what I meant was that your wings are simply stunning, love. I, well, as I said I've never seen anything like them and I meant to ask you how they got that way."

Aziraphale shook his head, unbelieving.

"Because I have never seen _decorated_ wings, neither a demon's nor an angel's. Your wings are far more beautiful than any other pair, I am sure of that."

Aziraphale smiled at Crowley, who was just staring at him, his expression a mixture of wonder and confusion. Sometimes the angel really wished he were able to see what Crowley was thinking.

The demon shifted, the air around him rippling as if he were about to unfurl his wings once again. But he merely re-positioned himself, his head bowed.

"Thank you, Master. I, I do not deserve such kind words when your wings are so much more beautiful. They are the biggest I have ever seen and your feathers are so soft. I-"

Crowley swallowed heavily, stopping. His hands were methodically clenching and unclenching something which Aziraphale had seen him do a lot when he felt stressed or unsafe.

"My wings used to be like yours, Master, before I Fell. Smaller, of course and less soft; but they were white. Back when... back when I was an angel, I was charged with creating and hanging up the stars. I formed all of them, I created them and they were my proudest achievement.  
I created something beautiful but when I... when I Fell, I had to give them up. No one should know that a _demon_ had created the stars. But..."

Crowley trailed off, his eyes focussed on the window to Aziraphale's left, as if he were able to see his stars even now.

"I did not want to give them up so I kept them. Not every star, of course, but I copied the most beautiful ones, the ones I was the proudest of and I put them into my wings to keep them with me. To keep them safe. They remind me that I was an angel too, once, they remind me that I am capable of doing good."

For a few seconds neither Crowley nor Aziraphale said anything. Crowley was still looking out the window with an empty stare as if he were seing the stars and galaxies he had created instead of the busy streets outisde.  
Aziraphale in turn, was staring at Crowley.

What the demon had told him had _hurt_ to hear. Aziraphale hadn't known that Crowley was still grieving the loss of his life as an angel - he hadn't even given thought to that!  
And the stars... Aziraphale had always been told that one angel or another had hung them and he had assumed that it had probably been a smaller, not as important one. But that it had been _Crowley?_

Aziraphale could see why Heaven would keep it a secret that a demon had created the stars - after all, why would they attribute something so beautiful to someone they saw as less? It would tarnish their reputation, Aziraphale imagined. 

But to Crowley, it surely must have been terrible to not only have lost what he had created but also to not even be credited for it. It simultaneously angered and saddened Aziraphale.  
Seeing Crowley stare longingly out the window only made matters worse.

Aziraphale straightened, deciding that he had to distract Crowley somehow, if only to make that sad look on his face disappear. And maybe later he could try and help cheer Crowley up somehow...

"Thank you for telling me, love. I am deeply sorry that you had that happen to you. But just know that your wings are gorgeous and look like the most beautiful of galaxies I have ever seen. If you'd like to, I would love you to tell me more about your stars some day."

Aziraphale smiled softly at Crowley's quick, almost eager nod, before continuing.

"There's another thing that I'd like to ask you. The customer from earlier brought a plant with him but I'm afraid I'm no use when it comes to them - I do not even know what it's called. Could you help me with deciding where I should put it? I think that you could enjoy it, the plant really is quite beautiful."

Crowley nodded, finally looking away from the window.

"Of course, Master."

He still sounded a little sad, as if he were grieving his creations and Aziraphale promised himself that he would find a way to give Crowley back a part of what he had created. Maybe they could talk about the stars one day or maybe he would find something he could gift Crowley with. He would think about it later. For now, he would focus on distracting Crowley and finding a suitable place for his new plant.

Aziraphale smiled at Crowley and stood up, helping the demon up. He lead the way to the bookcase where he had put the small plant. Aziraphale stepped aside to let Crowley see it clearly.  
The demon's eyes widened, stepping forward a little to take a better look at it, his arm already halfway outstretched as if he wanted to touch the plant, before he hastily pulled his hand back. He threw a quick, cautious glance at Aziraphale, who nodded in encouragment. 

"You can touch it if you'd like to, love."

Crowley looked back at the plant, hesitating. Then, he slowly, carefully reached out again, trailing his fingers over the pot. His hands wandered over the plants leaves, his touch light, almost a caress. Aziraphale watched as Crowley admired the plant, looking it over. 

He did seem to like it. Aziraphale had never seen Crowley with such a look of _longing_ on his face, as if he desperately wanted to keep the plant. He checked the individual leaves and stroked over the flowers quickly, a delicate touch. Crowley's enthusiasm surprised the angel a little - he himself had never able to make use of plants and had assumed that only very few people could.

Crowley, apparently, was one of those people. He was staring at the plant in amazement, although he had stopped touching it by now.

Aziraphale thought that maybe he had found the ideal place for the plant, after all.

"Would you like to keep it?"

Crowley's head shot up at the question.

"What?"

"I've got no use for it and I can see that you like it, dear. If you want to, I'll gladly give it to you so that you can keep it in your room or wherever you would like."

For a few seconds Crowley could do nothing but stare at Aziraphale in shock. Then, he slowly shook his head.

"I couldn't. It is yours and I have no right to keep it. You are beyond kind for offering, Master, but it wouldn't be right."

"Nonsense!"

Aziraphale softened his voice when he saw Crowley cringe and flinch back at his answer.

"I meant that I _want_ to give it to you, Crowley. I can see you obviously like the plant and I want to give it to you as a gift. See it as a thank-you for letting me groom your wings."

Aziraphale smiled, letting a bit of reassurance and care seep into his aura.  
Crowley threw a quick glance at the plant, seemingly still unsure.

"What would I have to do in return, Master?"

Crowley sounded resigned, his posture was rigid and tense. For once, he was looking at Aziraphale, as if he wanted to prove to him that he would do whatever was asked of him.  
He was standing straight and stiff, looking all but comfortable with his surroundings and his body was subconsciously angled towards the plant. 

Aziraphale himself couldn't help but feel slightly hurt. He had thought that Crowley would know by now that he did not have to fear him, he had thought he had made it clear that he did not want the demon to serve him or any of the like.  
But apparently, Aziraphale had not made himself as clear as he should have.

"You don't need to do anything in return, love. I neither expect nor want anything from you, I want to give the plant to you as a gift and a simple thank-you will definitely do suffice, as with everything else."

Aziraphale had kept his voice as calm as possible, a small smile fixed on his face.  
He felt slightly helpless. Of course he was aware that it would take Crowley a long time to feel comfortable around him and even longer to break the habits his previous... Masters had installed in him, but the demon's reaction had still stung.

Aziraphale had thought that slowly, Crowley might be accepting that he wouldn't harm him, had thought that maybe Crowley had grown to trust him a little more. But apparently-

No.  
The angel stopped that thought as soon as it had come to him. He was being unfair to Crowley - after all, the demon had started trusting him little by little. The lone fact that he had let Aziraphale groom his wings or that he had taken a bath when water terrified him were proof enough. Also, reasoned Aziraphale, Crowley had been through horrible things, he had told Aziraphale a few of the most terrible stories he had ever heard. He should be proud of Crowley for how far he had come instead of being hurt that the demon needed time to recover from the horrors he had lived through.

For what felt like the thousandth time since he had gotten to know Crowley, Aziraphale dismissed his thoughts in order to focus solely on Crowley. He could deal with them later - apparently, he had a lot of thinking and re-evaluating to do.

"As I said, you do not need to do _anything_ in order to thank me and I'm sorry if I made you think otherwise. I would love to give the plant to you as a gift but if you don't want me to, you can say so. It is fine either way - there will be no consequences. But," he added firmly, "I would be happy if you took it. I can see that you like it and I do think it'd look good in your room."

By now, Crowley had relaxed again ever so slightly. He felt his heart beat slow down gradually and his breath evened out. He _believed_ Aziraphale. 

Even though all his past experiences with angels had taught him not to trust them under any circumstances, even though Aziraphale was still his Master ( _and you cannot trust a Master, they will only hurt you, they take pleasure in your suffering_ ), he believed the angel.

Less than an hour ago, Aziraphale had groomed Crowley's wings, he had had the possibilty to hurt him irreparably. But he hadn't harmed Crowley, who had made hinself vulnerable before his Master.  
And all the times Crowley had messed up  
Aziraphale had never reacted violently. So far, he had not wanted Crowley to thank him in any of the ways the demon knew how to - the first evening Crowley had spent with him had proven that.  
Crowley knew that Aziraphale gained no pleasure from seeing him in pain or from humiliating him, he knew that the angel tried his best to make him as comfortable as possible.

And he remembered how appalled Aziraphale had been by what he had read in the contract or the anger the angel had felt when Crowley had told him about what Gabriel had used to do to him.

Aziraphale had proved time and time again that Crowley could trust him, that he would never expect anything from him that he wasn't ready to give. Crowley believed him when Aziraphale said that he did not want anything from Crowley in return for the plant. It frightened Crowley. He wasn't used to believing someone, to _trusting_ them and yet, he couldn't help it with Aziraphale.

Crowley took a deep, steadying breath and managed a small nod.

"Thank you, Master. I apologise for... insinuating that you would want anything in return, I, I will not do so again."  
Crowley threw a quick glance at the plant.  
"Thank you for being so kind to me, Master. The plant is beautiful and I cannot- Thank you. Aziraphale. Thank you."

Crowley shook his head. His chest felt heavy and his eyes were burning slightly, but the terrible, restricting sensation that usually accompanied these symptoms was missing.  
There was no fear - for the first time in _years_ Crowley wasn't afraid.  
He released a shaky breath. He hadn't known that he was even _capable_ of not always being terrified.

Crowley looked up sharply as Aziraphale moved. The angel was smiling and holding the plant - _begonia_ some part or Crowley's mind supplied - ready to give it to Crowley.

"Thank you for calling me by my name, dear. I know that it must be hard for you not to address me as 'Master', " Aziraphale frowned at the word, "and I'm happy you tried not to."

For a moment, Crowley could do nothing but stare at the angel. What was he talking about?  
Had he accidentally let his name slip instead of addressing him correctly?

For a split second, Crowley could feel his heart rate pick up in speed, before forcing himself ro remember that Aziraphale had not seemed to care. No, he had been _happy_ even, as if Crowley's stupid mistake had been something _good_. He had not been mad because of Crowley's slip-up and Crowley would be blessed if he didn't take that in stride.

"Are you alright, love? Did I say something wrong?"

Aziraphale was still holding the plant although he now looked slightly worried. Crowley nodded quickly.

"I'm fine, thank you, Ma-. I'm fine. I just, I didn't realise I hadn't adressed you correctly. I..."

Crowley trailed off, unsure as what to say. He couldn't apologise, not when Aziraphale had been so obviously pleased, but he felt uneasy with the thought of simply doing... nothing.  
Thankfully, Aziraphale saw Crowley's conflict and acted before Crowley could do something he might regret.

"Well, as I said I was happy about it. I would like for you to stop calling me Master but I do understand that it would take some time to get used to." Aziraphale gave a quick smile and finally handed Crowley the plant he must have been holding for some minutes now. 

"If you want to, we can think of an alternative name later, love. I'll leave you alone now so you can put the plant wherever you'd like. You can put it in your room or wherever else you want to. It's your choice. I'll be downstairs, call me if you need anything."

Aziraphale stepped back, ready to leave before he reconsidered and touched Crowley's shoulder briefly, squeezing it softly.

He smiled quickly at the demon before turning and heading downstairs, leaving a very overwhelmed Crowley standing in the middle of his living room, clutching the begonia to his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first part of this story (focussing on Crowley's trauma and recovery) is nearly over. I think there will be about two to three more chapters dealing with primarily those issues and then the second part (focussing on Crowley learning to trust Aziraphale more, slowly falling for him) will begin.  
> Of course, Crowley will still be in recovery and I'm afraid things won't always go smoothly in the second part either, but we'll see. From now on, Crowley can only get better. I hope you'll enjoy the 2nd part as much as you did the first one and hopefully I won't butcher it. :)
> 
> Anywas, I hope you liked the chapter, have a nice day/evening/night!!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!  
> I'm so sorry for the delay - life is still stressful right now and I'm afraid it will not get much better soon. I'll try to update the next chapter sooner than this one but I don't want to give you something half-assed, which is why these chapters take a little. I do hope you understand and enjoy the updates, even if they take some time.  
> Also, we've hit over a _thousand_ kudos? You all are insane and lovely. Thank you so so so much!! Without you, I never would have continued this story past the 1st chapter. Thank you!  
> I hope you'll like the chapter! Crowley is making progress and the plant finally gets a place it can stay at :))

It didn't look right on the table in the kitchen or on the edge of the bathtub. Neither on one of the countless overflowing bookshelves in the living room or in the shop.  
None of the windowsills in Aziraphale's flat were broad enough for the plant and Crowley feared for the begonia's life if he just left it on the floor.  
Crowley didn't dare entering his Master's bedroom without explicit permission, so that left only one other room- Crowley's own. 

The demon had been standing in front of his own door for longer than he cared to admit, the begonia clutched to his chest.  
He heard his Master re-shelve books downstairs, carefully listening for any sign that the angel was about to come upstairs. He did not want to be caught standing in front of his room, too afraid to open the door; yet too selfish to leave.

Crowley shifted a little, his hands clutching the plant just a little bit tighter. Problem was, he _wanted_. He wanted to enter his room and see if the begonia would look good in it, see if there was a suitable place for the plant in his own quarters. But he didn't dare to.

Crowley didn't dare to because he was not sure whether his Master would be so kind as to let him keep the plant if he found that his room was the perfect place after all. Crowley didn't dare entering his room because he did not want to bring his hopes up only to have them crushed later on when Aziraphale decided that he was not worthy of having a plant, of having something to care for.

Crowley sighed quietly, looking down at the begonia. The selfish, forbidden feeling of _want_ became stronger, an almost uncomfortable sensation in his stomach.  
Absent-mindedly, Crowley stroked a finger over one of the plant's leaves. It would look gorgeous on the old wooden desk next to the window. The place would be perfect - the begonia would get enough sunlight and would at the same time not be completely exposed to it. Also, the colourful blossoms would bring some life into Crowley's otherwise dark and neutral room.

Crowley dared taking a small, hesitant step closer to his room. The floorboard underneath him creaked and he halted, his breath hitching. Had he alarmed Aziraphale? Would his Master storm upstairs, sneering at Crowley for presuming that something as beautiful as the begonia would ever be _his_? Or would he punish Crowley straight away, to teach him not to be so selfish and greedy? 

Both thoughts were equally gut-wrenching and Crowley felt his breath pick up in speed.  
But no sounds could be heard from downstairs other than the angel's quiet humming as he carried his books from one shelf to another. There were no hasty steps at the stairs, no angry shouts, no mocking laughter.  
His Master did not seem to have noticed Crowley's greediness just yet.

The demon's shoulders, which had tensed up, sagged with relief. He let out a slow breath and, before he could talk himself out of it, he pushed the door open, stepping into his bedroom.  
If his Master did not want Crowley to take the plant to his room, well, Crowley would find out soon enough.

\---

Downstairs, Aziraphale was humming to the music that came from his turntable. It had been a long time since he had last re-shelved his books and he had nearly forgotten how relaxing a task it could be. With some good music, it was even better.

As Aziraphale busied himself with another armful of books, he listened to what Crowley was doing upstairs. Earlier, the angel had noticed spikes of nervousness in the demon's aura and up until a few seconds ago, Crowley had not seemed to have moved and had, judging from the emotions that had seeped into his aura, debated with himself about something. What, Aziraphale didn't know but he would not go upstairs and ask. Crowley had been nervous enough as it was and the angel doubted his presence would improve the demon's emotional situation.

Instead, Aziraphale wiped his shelves to get rid of the dust that they had collected over the past months, while thinking about the events of the day. Today had definitely been an exhausting day - if not physically, then definitely mentally.

The wing-grooming had, while undoubtedly relaxing, also been emotionally draining. It had always taken a lot of effort for Aziraphale to make himself vulnerable before someone in such a way and even though he trusted Crowley, the demon had been no exception.  
But at least his wings felt clean again, thought Aziraphale. Crowley really had done a marvellous job at preening them.

All in all he should feel good, relaxed and happy but his earlier realisation that Crowley might not trust him as much as Aziraphale had previously thought had definitely dampened the angel's mood.

That was also what he was mulling over while he cleaned his shelves.  
Was he putting too much pressure on Crowley?

Aziraphale had thought that the demon had become more comfortable with him over time. After all, he had given his best not to frighten him or make him feel unwanted. He had tried to make Crowley feel as welcome as he possible could, had tried to break the demon's mentality of a Master/Servant relationship.  
And, Aziraphale admitted in the privacy of his own head, he had secretly hoped that Crowley might even have grown to trust him - at least a little. He had hoped that Crowley had slowly started to see that he wouldn't hurt him, but would treat him like he deserved to be treated - as an equal.

But apparently, his assumption had been wrong. Apparently, Crowley did not trust him as much as he had hoped.  
It had hurt, at first, the realisation that Crowley was still living in fear of him. But now that Aziraphale had calmed down a little and had distanced himself emotionally, he could see the matter at hands clearer. 

Now that he actually had time to think about Crowley's behaviour and his reaction to his offer in depth, the angel realised how presumptuous it had been to think that Crowley felt safe with him already.

The demon had been with him only for a few short months and Aziraphale knew what horrors he had lived through with his previous Masters. It should not have come as a surprise that Crowley still was suspicious of him, still did not trust him completely. Aziraphale should not have been as hurt by Crowley's reaction as he had.

Rationally he _knew_ that Crowley would need a lot of time to ever start really trusting anyone again, especially him, since the demon did still see him as his Master.  
Aziraphale knew that he had put too much pressure on Crowley earlier and he vowed himself that he would be more patient from now on. He knew that Crowley needed all the time he could possibly give him, was aware that he should not be so disappointed. But for some reason Crowley's fear had still hurt the angel. 

Aziraphale started humming again as he started wiping the next shelf, thoughts focussed on the problem at hand.  
_Why_ had Crowley's reaction hurt that much?

Aziraphale understood part of his feelings - after all, he had apparently not made Crowley feel as at ease as he had thought.  
The angel understood his own emotions in that regard - he had held an expectation which had proven not to be correct. It was normal to be disappointed over something like this, but that still didn't explain the sliver of genuine _hurt_ Aziraphale had felt.

Was he that desperate for Crowley to trust him?  
The simple answer was yes, of course.  
Aziraphale was an angel, he was used to being trusted, it was necessary if he wanted to guide and help people. It was in his very nature and it could be an explanation as to why Crowley's reaction had offended Aziraphale that much.

But, if he was being quite honest with himself, the simple answer wasn't the only correct one.  
For reasons Aziraphale did not quite understand, reasons that had nothing to do with him being an angel, he wanted Crowley to trust him more than he ever had wanted anyone else to put their trust in him.  
He wanted Crowley to _like_ him even, to enjoy being in his company.

The insight was so surprising that Aziraphale momentarily stopped wiping his already clean shelf.  
He had never, _never_ felt that way before.

Oh, of course he enjoyed being liked - who didn't, after all? But it had never been a _need_ , he had never wanted anyone to like him so desperately. He had never experienced the desire to be liked and he had never really thought he would, either - especially not in regards to a demon. The notion was a strange one for Aziraphale. It felt as if there was an easy and straight-forward explanation for why he felt the way he did, but he was not yet quite able to see it.

All he knew was that he desperately wanted Crowley to trust him, like him and enjoy being with him.  
Why, he wasn't sure. He was, however, sure that he would be give his best to make any of those three wishes come true as soon as possible, while trying to be as gentle and caring as he could.

\----

During Aziraphale's internal monologue, Crowley was facing a completely different problem.  
His room was _perfect_.

After some more minutes filled with panic and fear, the demon had dared placing the plant on his windowsill carefully.  
He had not wanted to start with the desk, lest he found out it was where the begonia belonged, after all.

Therefore, Crowley had started placing the flower in different locations all around his room - the windowsill, the edge of his bed frame, on the floor directly underneath his window. He had even grown desperate enough as to put it in the middle of his terribly soft carpet before he had finally dared placing it on his desk.

And there it stood now, a flower so beautiful that it seemed to light up the whole room. The green of its leaves complimented the room nicely, just as Crowley had thought. The begonia's colours were vibrant and looked all the better in the demon's otherwise somewhat dark room. It seemed as if the plant were made for the room, belonged to it even. It seemed as if the flower belonged to _Crowley_.

And that was where the problem lay.  
The plant did _not_ belong to Crowley, not even close to it - it very much still was Aziraphale's. And even though the angel had asked Crowley to find a suitable place for the begonia, even though he had even offered him to keep it, it did not mean that his Master wouldn't change his mind.  
Crowley had faced a Master's whims and their usually brutal outcomes too often to allow himself to be optimistic about this.

Granted, maybe Aziraphale _would_ allow him to keep the plant for now, but how long would his mercy last? Crowley was certain that the time would come where Aziraphale would take the begonia from him again, either to punish him or to prove the power he held over Crowley.  
Or - and the thought alone made an uneasy feeling spread in Crowley's gut - Aziraphale would allow him to keep the plant in his room, to care for it and look after it for an infinite amount of time, but he would make Crowley pay for it.

Because Crowley knew that if he kept the begonia, he would be in the angel's debt. No matter what Aziraphale had claimed earlier - Crowley could not believe that he would not have to do anything at all in return. He couldn't just be left unscathed, he had to pay off his debt _somehow_.

And even though Crowley had slowly, reluctantly gotten used to the thought that Aziraphale would not abuse him sexually, there were many more ways in which the angel could hurt him, in which he could make him pay for being granted this one wish.  
A small voice in the back of Crowley's head chimed in, insisting that so far, the angel had not done anything _at all_ to hurt Crowley. The contrary, in fact - Aziraphale had gone out of his way to apparently make him feel as cared-for and safe as possible.  
Crowley squashed the traitorous voice. No matter how kind Aziraphale had been so far, it did not mean that he would let everything slide - especially not blatant greediness and vanity on Crowley's part. 

With one last, lingering look around the room, Crowley carefully picked up the begonia again, leaving his room empty and grey once more.  
He would take the plant downstairs to Aziraphale before he lost himself to wishful thinking any longer. 

\----

Aziraphale startled as he heard Crowley clear his throat behind him. He silenced the turntable, which had started playing Beethoven less than five minutes ago, with a wave of his hand before turning around to face Crowley.

The demon was standing in the doorway, eyes trained in the floor and begonia clutched to his chest. Aziraphale smiled and stepped aside, making way for Crowley to go sit down on the chair by his desk, should the demon want to.

"Are you alright, love?"

Crowley nodded mutely, finally looking up at Aziraphale. His shoulders were hunched, as if he were trying to curl protectively around the begonia. His posture screamed 'defensive' and his eyes wandered around the room, but Aziraphale noted with a slight flutter of his stomach that Crowley did not seem afraid. The sliver of fear and wariness in the demon's eyes that Aziraphale had gotten so used to was nowhere to be seen.

Crowley nodded once more, an answer to Aziraphale's previous question, and shifted his weight. 

"Have you found a suitable place?", Aziraphale asked, nodding at the plant.  
At his question, the demon suddenly tensed, his gaze dropping to the floor once more. Crowley's grip around the pot tightened.

"Yes, Master. I-"

Crowley broke off, shaking his head, his face now significantly paler.

"I'm sorry. No. I meant to say no, I did not find a suitable place. I am sorry."

Aziraphale frowned slightly.  
It was obvious Crowley was lying but the angel couldn't figure out for the life of him _why_. Crowley seemed nervous, his eyes wandering over the room but still, he didn't seem _afraid_. Aziraphale counted it as a win.

"You know," he said carefully, "you can put the flower wherever you want. Everywhere is fine, Crowley, and be it in the toilet. I meant it when I said you could choose a place for it at your own will."  
Aziraphale tried what he had done about a hundred times already since Crowley had come to live with him - he poured all the positive feelings he could muster into his aura and let them wash over Crowley.

It seemed to work better than it ever had before. Crowley's posture relaxed a little, the tension bleeding out. His breath slowed down and his eyes stilled, now fixed on Aziraphale. Aziraphale tried very hard to fight off the smile that threatened to creep on his face at the effect his little trick had had on Crowley. He felt faintly proud of himself - it was as if Crowley were slowly starting to trust him subconsciously. 

The demon took a deep breath, his thumb slowly stroking over the flower pot in a repetitive motion. He seemed to gather his courage, standing up straighter.

"Then," he started, voice trembling only ever so slightly, "I would like to keep it in my room. Please. If you'd be so kind as to allow me to."

Aziraphale couldn't fight off the grin that spread over his face this time. He nodded vigorously, surprising Crowley with his reaction. 

"Of course, love. I'm very happy that you decided to keep it - I wouldn't know how to care for the flower, anyways."

Aziraphale smiled once more at Crowley, this time more subdued and his heart lurched as he saw a shadow of an answering smile on the demon's face. It could barely be called a smile at all but to Aziraphale, it was a success.

"Well, would you lead the way?" Aziraphale asked, following Crowley as the demon slowly made his way upstairs, hands still cupped protectively around the begonia.

//

Crowley could barely believe his luck. He felt slightly unsteady on his feet, light-headed from his success.  
Aziraphale had allowed him to _keep the plant._. Crowley had tried to squash all hope, too afraid of the disappointment he had been so sure would come. But against all his expectations, Aziraphale had neither mocked him not taken the plant away from him. No, he was following upstairs to see where exactly Crowley would place it and to hopefully give his approval. Oh Satan, Crowley could only hope that Aziraphale would allow him to place the begonia on his desk.

With trembling hands, Crowley pushed his door open, all too aware of the angel's presence behind him. It felt as if his Master were standing directly behind him, watching his every move, just waiting for a mistake. Realistically, Crowley knew that the angel had kept his distance, but he could not help feeling watched.

With a shaky breath, the demon entered his room, stepping onto the soft, red carpet. He made his way over to the desk, just waiting for a hand to grab his arm, a voice to tell him that he had been too greedy, don't you know you don't deserve things for yourself, you're nothing, how could you ever think you could own anything when you're the one being owned-  
Crowley nearly let the plant drop with how quickly the memory of Gabriel had come rushing back. He had forgotten about it, one of the thousands of instances Gabriel had abused and mocked him for being too greedy. 

Apparently, Crowley was not as sure of his current Master's goodwill as he had hoped he had been, if the memory proved anything. He slowed down his steps on his way to the desk, the begonia clutched tightly to his chest. Crowley hesitated a few seconds before he set it down gingerly, trying to make as little noise as possible. Then, he turned, taking a quick step away from the table lest he angered his Master by displaying too much ownership over the plant.

Crowley did a double-take. His Master was not standing behind him, ready to kick him or take the plant away, as he had feared; no, the angel was standing in the doorframe, his hands hanging relaxed at his sides, a smile on his face. And his aura... all Crowley could feel were joy and calmness, none of the anger and ridicule he had feared he would find.

Aziraphale started speaking but did not come closer to inspect the plant or take it away. He simply stood in Crowley's doorway, smiling slightly and looking at the plant fondly.

"It looks perfect, my dear. I like the spot you chose, it really does light up the room. You've got a good eye for that- I doubt I ever would have found a place as nice as this one. I'm happy you decided to keep it, it fits perfectly into your room."

Aziraphale gave another smile, as if he hadn't just _complimented Crowley_ as if it were nothing. Crowley opened his mouth, trying to answer, to show respect, but he found the words stuck in his throat. He watched as Aziraphale smiled reassuringly, still not coming closer, still not invading Crowley's personal space or hurting him.

Instead, the angel shook his head softly and snapped his fingers, the music downstairs picking up where he had stopped it earlier.

"I'll give you a bit of time love, to water the plant and such. You can use the spray bottle you used on my wings earlier; it should appear in your desk in a minute. If you need anything at all, just come downstairs. But of course, take as much time as you need. And I mean it," added the angel, "the place you chose really is perfect. I have no doubt that you will care very well about your plant indeed."

Aziraphale gave a last smile, about the hundredth Crowley must have received today, and then he turned his back to him and left Crowley alone in his room. Simultaneously, the spray bottle appeared on the table with a small 'pop'. For a second, Crowley could do nothing but stand there, eyes fixed on the spot where his Master had been just seconds ago, before he set to work.

\---  
The bottle was still unfamiliar to him, its thin water spray still unsettling Crowley a little. He watered the plant carefully, his arm extended in order to keep the spray as far away from him as possible. The first few times the bottle emitted a small sound when Crowley pushed the lever the demon to flinched, but after the third or fourth try he slowly got used to it. It felt _good_ somehow, watering the plant, taking care that it got as much as it needed. Crowley was fascinated by the water drops that dripped off the plants lush leaves.

After one last spritz Crowley carefully set the spray bottle back down, examining it from afar. He shuddered slightly as he remembered the sensation of the water running down his wings. It had not been _uncomfortable_ per se, but the unfamiliar feeling had still almost frightened Crowley. In his experience, new sensations usually resulted in pain and torture.

Aziraphale had not harmed him, though. No, the angel had tried his best to make Crowley feel comfortable, he had explained what he would do before he hade done it and he had been so incredibly _gentle._  
It had taken Crowley a lot of effort to unfold his wings in front of the angel. Only very few Masters had made him that vulnerable and Crowley's automatic reaction to Aziraphale touching his wings had been to expect pain. Instead, he had gotten gentleness and affection. 

It had almost seemed as if Aziraphale _wanted_ Crowley's wings to feel better. He had not mocked the state they were in and he had not harmed the demon's feathers. Crowley almost didn't dare admit it in the privacy of his own head but letting the angel take care of his wings had felt nice. It had relaxed him, it had been _good_. And he had trusted Aziraphale, he had trusted him not to hurt him.

The realisation did not come as that much of a surprise as Crowley had thought. He had the feeling that he should have been shocked by it or horrified even, but all Crowley felt was a slight twinge of wonder. He had not ever actively thought about trusting Aziraphale, but apparently, he did, at least a little. Enough to bare his wings in front of him, at the very least.

And enough to tell him about his creations.

Crowley felt the familiar tug of pain that came whenever he thought about the stars and galaxies. They had been _his_. He had created them, almost every single one of them and they had been taken from him when he had Fallen. It was something Crowley was still hurt by and simultaneously it was one of the few secrets he had managed to keep over the years. It was the secret that he held the closest to his heart. Secrets were precious to him, something solely his, something that no one - not even Gabriel - had been able to take away from him.

And now he had gone and told Aziraphale about his greatest achievement. He had told him his secret and in a way, that had made him more vulnerable than even the wing-grooming had. Crowley had not thought about it when he had told him, really - he had just answered the angel's question and he had felt relieved that he had finally been able to share the pain he still felt, even after all this time.

And Crowley did not regret it. Aziraphale's reaction had been kind and understanding, it had almost felt as if the angel really was upset about the injustice Crowley had experienced. It had felt as if Aziraphale _cared_ , somehow.  
The thought alone was a strange one. Why would the angel care?  
It was only Crowley after all, his _servant_ , why would Aziraphale care about what had hurt him so long ago?  
Theoretically, Crowley was aware that angels were supposed to care about everyone but every angelic Master he had ever had, had definitely made Crowley re-consider this stereotype.

There was nothing good about most of them and except for Aziraphale no angel had ever shown Crowley kindness. 

With a slight shake of his head Crowley set the spray bottle down again. It was no use contemplating an angel's kindness - he should be happy about how gentle and patient Aziraphale was with him, not ungrateful.  
His Master had proven to be kind and more generous than Crowley deserved and he'd be blessed if he didn't treasure that.

//

Downstairs, Aziraphale was preparing their dinner. It was mainly an assortment of fresh fruits and pancakes, so really more breakfast than dinner. But Crowley had liked the fruit Aziraphale had given him a few days ago and Aziraphale was intent on giving the demon what he liked.

The table was full with various fruits - mainly strawberries since Crowley seemed to like them the most- but also pancakes and slices of bread and butter for when the sweetness of it all became too much. Aziraphale had prepared hot chocolate and two glasses of water and everything was looking rather lovely if he did say so himself.

He was just about to go upstairs to inform Crowley that dinner was ready when he heard soft footsteps coming from the direction of the stairs. Apparently, Crowley had been able to break away from his plant. 

Aziraphale turned to greet the demon, who was standing rather stiffly in the doorway, with a smile.

"I prepared dinner for us love, if you're hungry. If not it's no problem - it will keep. But if you'd like, you can eat as much as you want." Aziraphale gestured at the table with another slight smile, making his way over to his chair.

Crowley joined him slowly, his eyes taking in the food in wonder.  
"Thank you, Master. You didn't- you could have called me and I would have helped or prepared the food instead! It's my responsibility, after all."

Aziraphale frowned slightly at that.  
"It doesn't have to be your responsibility, Crowley. I am as much part of this household as you are and I don't mind cooking. Not that what I did was cooking, really. I'm happy if you want to help me in any way but you don't have to - it is not your duty and I will not force you to help me." Aziraphale smiled, trying not to make Crowley feel criticised. The demon had sunken in on himself a little but he nodded, looking up at Aziraphale quickly.

"If you ever want to help, feel free to do so but please don't think you _have_ to or that you owe it to me. Also, I enjoy cooking thoroughly. Food was always one of the pleasures this Earth has to offer that I understood the best." Aziraphale gestured at the plates in front of them. "Please take what you want, love. I can always make more. Or you can, if you'd like."

\--  
For a few minutes they ate in silence, Crowley mostly picking out berries and dipping them in a little honey. The bread went untouched by either of them. All in all, Aziraphale did have to congratulate himself on the meal he had put together - Crowley seemed to like it and Aziraphale himself definitely enjoyed it. Pancakes and other desserts had always been one of his guilty pleasures.

They finished sooner than Aziraphale had anticipated and before Crowley could stand up - to do the dishes presumably - Aziraphale asked him to remain at the table. He had not prepared the meal solely to still his and Crowley's hunger, but also to talk with Crowley about something rather important. 

Aziraphale cleared his throat softly, setting his cutlery aside, which caused Crowley to look up from his plate, a wary look on his face. Aziraphale leaned back in his chair a little, his body language as open and welcoming as possible. 

"I wanted to talk about what you're calling me right now, love. As you know I don't enjoy being called "Master" although I understand that it is forcce of habit since that's what has been expected of you in the past. But I also noticed that you called me by my name earlier which, admittedly, made me happy."

Aziraphale smiled a little, fighting off the blush that threatened to colour his cheeks.  
Crowley was looking intently at him, his eyebrows drawn together as if he were desperately trying to figure something out.  
The angel continued quickly, not wanting to send Crowley the wrong message.

"Well, as I said, I was pleased that you called me by my name, even if you probably did not do it on purpose, which, in my opinion, makes it even better. I think it shows that at least subconsciously you are slowly breaking away from the mindest of you being beneath me. Which is a good thing!" he added hastily as he saw Crowley tense and put a bit more distance between them.

"It's a good thing, love and I would like to keep it that way. But as I mentioned I assume it must be quite difficult for you to get used to using another name for me so for now, I thought we could start off slow, if you'd like."

Aziraphale interrupted himself, forcing himself to wait for Crowley's answer before he had the chance to assume anything and scare the demon with his abundance an ideas. After a minute, Crowley nodded almost imperceptibly. Aziraphale gave him an encouraging smile in return.

"Do you have any suggestions, is there anything you want to call me? Almost everything is fine, my dear."

The angel wanted to let Crowley decide first instead of forcing him to use a name the demon might feel uncomfortable using. He did not, in any way, want to remind Crowley of having to call someone "Master". After a few seconds of thinking, the demon spoke quietly, his eyes once more fixed on the table. 

"Would 'Sir' be fine, Master? It would still demonstrate the necessary respect for you."

Aziraphale just barely resisted a frown. This was not exactly what he had expected or wanted.

"I am as little a 'Master' as I am a 'Sir', Crowley. You don't have to prove respect by calling me anything in that direction. I don't want to feel as if I were above you whenever you talk to me and you calling me 'Sir' would definitely make me feel that way. Another name, maybe? You could just call me Aziraphale, if you want or almost any nickname. Heaven, even a simple 'angel' would do the job."

At that, Crowley looked up. He just watched Aziraphale for a moment, his eyes searching the angel's as if they were looking for any hint of a lie. Apparently, he found none.  
Ever so slowly, Crowley nodded slightly.

"I would like that, Ma- Aziraphale. But I cannot guarantee that I will be able to... that I will be able to switch immediately and I, I'm sorry for that. Angel."

Aziraphale smiled reassuringly.

"It's fine, love. Take as much time as you need, I promise I will not be mad when you accidentally slip up. All that matters to me is that you try."

Crowley nodded once more, now slowly relaxing. Suddenly a thought occured to Aziraphale, one that made his stomach clench unpleasantly.

"Are you alright with what I call you? All the nicknames - love, dear and such. Is there anything else you'd like me to address you as, am I making you uncomfortable?"

To Aziraphale's surprise, Crowley quickly shook his head, his hands coming up as if to reach for Aziraphale's before he let them fall back on the table.

"No, Ma- angel, the nicknames are fine! I don't mind them. They are... nice, actually. Pleasant. They make me feel cared for."

Crowley was blushing as he stopped talking, his eyes fixed on a spot somewhere above Aziraphale's head.  
_They make me feel safe_ , he didn't add but he felt the words burn on his tongue. Slowly, he dared looking at the angel, afraid of any trace of mocking he might find in his face.

To his surprise, there was none. On the contrary- Aziraphale looked... touched, almost. He smiled brightly at Crowley, extending his hand to squeeze the demon's.

"I'm happy to hear that, love. I will continue calling you that then, if it's alright with you."

After another nod by Crowley, Aziraphale squeezed his hand once more, still smiling. Then, he pushed back his chair, and stood up, collecting the used plates. Crowley followed suit, the barest hint of a smile on his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Crowley really is making so much progress! The plant really does help him a lot. :) Aziraphale, on the other hand, is realising things only very slowly, but we'll get there, you'll see! I hope you enjoyed the chapter! It's definitely the one with the least angst yet, but after all we can't leave Crowley to suffer for all of eternity, can we? (Also, I find that since I've been feeling better over the last couple weeks/months, my characters tend to suffer less, too ^^)  
> Well anyways, I hope you liked the chapter! Have a lovely day!! <3


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is like, 90% Crowley’s POV. It’s a bit of a difficult and weird time for him as of right now since he’s starting to trust Aziraphale a bit more, which he obviously isn’t used to. But I loved writing that much in Crowley’s POV and I really, really hope you like reading this as well! I’m a bit unsure whether or not I managed to pull it off, since the place Crowley is in right now is not only difficult for him and but also difficult for me to write. ^^  
> Also, as a sort of apology for the long wait, this one is the longest chapter so far!! ^^
> 
> I hope you enjoy!!!  
> (Also: Whooo! Chapter 10! I never thought we'd get that far!!)

The plant did look gorgeous in Crowley's room, Aziraphale had to admit that. He had never been the best with interior design and therefore the guest room - which was currently Crowley's - had always looked rather dark and bleak. Aziraphale had been surprised by what a difference a single flower could make but after seeing how well it fit into the room and how much Crowley cared for it, he thought that it wouldn't be a bad idea to maybe add more plants to the room.  
Maybe he could give some to Crowley as a gift.

At the moment, however he had to focus on something else.  
"Do you also have a planetary system?"

The sales assistant in front of him allowed herself to be exasperated for just a second before composing herself, putting on a strained smile for the customer in front of her. While the man was undoubtedly friendly, he had been questioning her about various things for at least thirty minutes now, most of them unrelated to his purchases. Never once before had she met anyone who could talk that much about books from the seventeenth century and she hoped she would never have to meet someone like this again, either.  
Still, she answered quickly, watching as a smile formed on the man's face.

"In the back. I could lead you to them, if you'd like to."

The man nodded vigorously and the sales assistant rolled her eyes as soon as she had turned around. As lovely as the man might be, she could not wait for him to finally buy his gift and leave.

\---

A good fifteen minutes later Aziraphale left the shop with a broad smile and a small bag in his hands. He had been successful and the rather lovely lady had helped him tremendously. He would make the rest of the week go well for her.

The angel hurried on his way back home - he had hesitated to leave Crowley alone in their flat, not sure how well the demon would deal with it. He had expected his shopping trip to only take a little while but by now, Aziraphale had been gone for almost an hour and couldn't help but worry how Crowley was doing.

Initially, he had not wanted to leave Crowley alone at all but upon the demon's reassurances that he would be fine on his own, Aziraphale had dared to leave him in his flat for the duration of his shopping. Crowley had been surprisingly sure, not once stammering and for the most part, he had even looked Aziraphale in the eyes.  
But what had really reassured Aziraphale that he was not making a grave mistake by leaving the demon alone was with how much assuredness Crowley had told him that he would be fine on his own.

He had dared _objecting_ Aziraphale's worries when the angel had voiced them and that was what had convinced Aziraphale that Crowley would indeed be fine on his own.  
He had not expected the demon to speak out the way he had and had been more than pleasantly surprised by it.

And therefore, he had left, promising Crowley to be back as soon as possible. A promise Aziraphale now tries his hardest not to break, as he hurried home, bag full of gifts clutched tightly in his hand.

\---

Crowley had checked the clock for the fourth time now. Hid Mas- Sir- _Aziraphale_ had been gone for a little less than twenty minutes and Crowley already felt uneasy.  
His Master had been hesitant to leave him alone, almost not going at all, but Crowley had dared to push him, had dared to tell him he would be fine on his own and finally, the angel had left.

Then, it had seemed like a good idea - if his Master left, he would not be angry with Crowley later on for forcing him to stay with him in the flat when he had had better things to do - but now, Crowley couldn't help the slight nausea that was creeping up on him. He had rarely ever been left alone by his previous Masters and whenever he had, their return had usually meant more punishment and pain for him.

He vividly remembered the one time Michael had left him alone in her flat right after an unusually brutal punishment. He had wished for her to come back the entire two hours she'd been gone but when she had returned with a few gifts in store, he had cursed himself for ever wanting her to come back.

With a forceful shake of his head, Crowley chased the memory away. It was to no use, dwelling on things that were long over. He _knew_ that Aziraphale wasn't like Michael or Gabriel in any way, alone how hesitant the angel had been to leave Crowley was proof enough that nothing unpleasant would await the demon when Aziraphale came back.

With that admittedly surprisingly optimistic thought in mind, Crowley slowly stood up from the kitchen floor on which he had been sitting. He had started tidying the kitchen as soon as his Mas- the angel had left, too restless to simply do nothing. He had felt the need to prove himself to be useful even when no one was around, had wanted to show his Master that he could do good even when no one had ordered him to, had wanted to show that he _was_ good.

But now the kitchen had been cleaned, Aziraphale had cleaned the living room and the shop just yesterday and since Crowley didn't dare entering the angel's room and his own was kept in perfect condition, he had nothing left to do.

The demon eyed the stove for a second but decided against cooking with a shake of his head. He had never cooked before except for the one time Aziraphale had prepared a salad with him and he doubted that he would be able to produce something even somewhat edible. In the worst case, he would make a terrible mess out of the kitchen, break something or use precious food the angel might not have wanted to be used yet and then his Master would surely be angrier than if Crowley had just done nothing at all.  
He looked around the kitchen one last time. He had cleaned it well - everything was where it belonged and Crowley felt satisfied as he took in the kitchen's state.

He left the room, closing the door behind him. It was time to check on his plant.  
-  
The begonia looked as perfect as the day he had gotten it. The flowers had opened up a little more, displaying their soft pink colour, a stark contrast to the otherwise dark room. Crowley stroked softly over one of the begonia's leaves, checking the plant over for any eventual spots, pleased to find none.  
He watered the plant quickly, still holding the spray bottle that Aziraphale had left in his room as far away from him as possible, not yet quite used to it.  
After another last quick check, Crowley left his room, making his way to the living room.

Ever since Aziraphale had read to him, the stories Crowley had been told had replayed in Crowley's mind over and over again. The myths had been surprisingly fascinating and not for the first time did Crowley admire the creativity humans so often displayed.  
Crowley stopped in front of the large bookcase Aziraphale had retrieved the book of greek myths from a few weeks ago, trying to read the book titles.  
Reading had always been a bit hard for Crowley - being part snake meant that concentrating in something that wasn't moving at all quickly grew strenuous and frustrating.

After a couple minutes of Crowley desperately trying to remember what the book had looked like while scanning the bookshelf, he located it on one of the top shelves, just low enough for him to still reach it comfortably.  
Crowley stood on his tip-toes, reaching for the book, pulling it out with a soft, successful "ha".  
The book was heavier than he had anticipated and prettier than he remembered. He opened it, leaving through the pages admiring the pictures that accompanied the myths.  
Crowley opened one story randomly, reading the title slowly.

 _Philemon and Baucis_  
He could not remember Aziraphale reading that particular story to him and he sat down in one of the armchairs opposite to the bookshelf, curling up with the book clutched in hands.  
Reading was more difficult than Crowley remembered - every word was a challenge for his eyes. He read only very slowly but the activity had a calming effect on him nevertheless. It had been a long, _long_ time since he had last read anything at all and the myth was surprisingly enjoyable.

Time flew by as Crowley made his way through the story, learning about how the first humans on Earth had treated the Gods terribly until the last old couple welcomed the disguised Gods with open arms. It was a good story, all things considered, even though the murder of a whole village was a less than pleasant thing to read about.  
Finishing the story took Crowley longer than he had anticipated and when he shut the book, he was startled to see that he had spent over an hour reading. Crowley stood up quickly, leaving the book on the armchair. He had not thought that reading would take even half as long as it had and was surprised to see his Master had not yet returned.  
Perhaps it was for the better, thought Crowley. Now he at least had time to think about what he could do to make it seem as if he hadn't just wasted over an hour doing nothing that was in any way useful to his Master.

Just as Crowley had finished that thought he heard the door downstairs open, signalling that Aziraphale had returned from his shopping trip.  
The demon hurried downstairs, not wanting to leave his Master waiting for too long. He left the book lying on the armchair, still opened where Crowley had finished the myth.

Luckily, Aziraphale seemed neither annoyed not too worn-out by his shopping, so the risk that he'd have a reason to get angry with Crowley was quite small, the demon observed absent-mindedly. He blinked. He had not _consciously_ thought that (unusually optimistic) thought, it had more been an automatic reaction to his Master's return. Just as automatic as the pang of fear that went through Crowley as he saw the bag, which Aziraphale carried with him.

In the past, it had never meant anything even remotely good for Crowley when his Masters had brought home "presents" for him. Michael especially had been fond of surprising Crowley with "gifts" she had used to buy when she left Crowley alone. More often than not she had brought back implements to inflict pain on Crowley, always showing them to the demon with a sickly sweet smile and an explanation as to why this one would be _just perfect for you, wouldn't it?_

The bag Aziraphale had brought back however, looked nothing like what Michael's had used to. It was a plastic bag, stuffed full with items Crowley could not identify through the plastic.  
His Master was smiling up at him, Crowley realised belatedly. The angel was looking up to where Crowley was standing on one of the stairs leading up to the living area. He looked happy, noted Crowley, as if seeing him had somehow pleased Aziraphale.

"I'm sorry it took so long, love. I do hope you were alright being alone for so long- I didn't think I would need quite that much time."

The angel looked slightly abashed, an awkward half-smile forming on his face. Crowley shook his head quickly, not wanting to make his Master feel guilty for any longer.

"I was fine, Master, thank you for asking. I didn't mind you being away for so long, though of course I'm happy you're back again."

Crowley attempted a small smile, positively surprised as the angel reciprocated it. He looked cold, Crowley noticed, the tip of his nose slightly red and his hair ruffled from the wind outside. Crowley watched as the angel shrugged off his coat, hanging it up before taking off his shoes. He grinned at Crowley as he picked up his plastic bag, walking towards Crowley.

"Would you come upstairs with me, love? I was thinking of lighting a fire in the fireplace. It's a bit cold outside and I desperately need something to warm me again."

Crowley nodded, following the angel upstairs, his eyes fixed on the bag in his Master's hand.

\---

Aziraphale hummed slightly as he entered his living room upstairs, setting the bag with gifts aside in favour of picking up some firewood he stored next to the fireplace.  
It had been a long time since he had last lighted a fire in here and he found that it was harder than it seemed.  
Finally after the fourth try, he managed to light a small piece of wood and some paper he had placed in between the wood.  
Grinning happily, he turned to Crowley, who was standing awkwardly in front of one of the two armchairs by the fireplace, chewing on his bottom lip.

"Why don't you take a seat, love? I want to show you what I bought.”  
Aziraphale smiled encouragingly, watching as Crowley slowly walked to one of the armchairs, sitting down carefully next to a book.  
A book?

Aziraphale took a closer look at it, intrigued. It looked like the book of myths Aziraphale had read to Crowley a few weeks ago, now opened on another page. Had Crowley _read_?  
Aziraphale couldn't help the smile that spread across his face.

"Did you read?"

Aziraphale was inexplicably happy and proud at the revelation. He had not quite expected Crowley to take initiative and do something out of his own will, without asking beforehand, but apparently, that was just what the demon had done.

Crowley nodded timidly, making himself a little smaller in the armchair he was sitting in. One hand was protectively curled around the book, the other laying in a loose fist in his lap.  
Aziraphale gave him a beaming smile and took a small step back, giving the demon a bit more space.

"That's wonderful, dear! I'm happy you liked the myths so much. Which one did you read? Did you enjoy it? Would you like me to read more to you?"

Crowley looked surprised by the onslaught of questions, his jaw slightly slack. His mouth opened and closed a few times with no words coming out before he was able to say anything at all.

"I, I read only one story, angel, _"Philemon and Baucis"_. I enjoyed it very much, even if it was a bit brutal in the end. But I, I liked reading it. It was the only one I read and I'm sorry I didn't ask you beforehand."

Crowley's eyes fleetingly met the floor before he swallowed and dared looking up again.

"But I liked it when you read to me and I thought that I could maybe read a story on my own. You were right - reading was enjoyable even though it took a long time for me to finish it."

Crowley took a deep breath, looking Aziraphale in the eyes. The angel didn't look mad, more happy than anything else and maybe that was what encouraged Crowley to ask the next question.

"Would you maybe read another one to me? It doesn't have to be today, of course and if you don't want to you don't have to, I, I don't mean to imply that you have to. I understand if you don't want to or if it's too much of a bother..."

Crowley trailed off, looking unsure of himself. It was a look Aziraphale hated seeing on his demon, hated how small Crowley looked, unable to even look in the angel's general direction.

"I'd love to read to you, my dear. I enjoyed it very much when I did so the last time and I'm glad to hear you enjoyed it as well. It would be an honour to read to you, love, and I'm more than happy you asked. Because you _can_ ask for things, Crowley. I might not always say yes but there will never be any negative consequences for asking, I promise that to you. And especially not for asking me to read to you - it's something I enjoy greatly and I'd love to read another few myths to you."

Crowley nodded slightly after Aziraphale had finished talking, and though his eyes still didn't meet the angel's there was a small smile on his lips.  
He leaned back in the armchair, pulling his feet up so he could hug his knees and watched as Aziraphale dragged the other armchair in a position in which he and Crowley could face each other while sitting.

The angel had brought his bag over to the chair and started unpacking it, excitedly humming as he did so. Crowley watched with furrowed brows, his nails picking on the skin of his cuticles. He couldn't help but feel slightly nervous as he watched Aziraphale unpack the presents.  
Realistically, he knew that the angel wouldn't have bought something he could use to hurt, punish or humiliate Crowley with, but old habits were hard to break.  
Crowley felt himself tense as Aziraphale pulled out a small, rectangular packet made out of plastic and filled with what seemed to be cards.

"Those are playing cards," explained Aziraphale, "Are you familiar with them?"

Crowley shook his head slowly, confused.  
He had no idea what exactly Aziraphale had had in mind when he had bought the cards. They didn't seem to be useful for anything, judging from the quick look Crowley had gotten at them. The demon watched carefully as Aziraphale unpacked the cards, showing a few of them to Crowley. They were of different colours with numbers printed onto most of them, both of which made little sense to Crowley.

"They are used for, well, playing games, as the name insinuates. I bought them because I wanted to show you some things I enjoy. Only if you want to, of course."

Aziraphale smiled hopefully at Crowley and at the look on the angel's face, Crowley could do little else but nod. The even bigger smile that lit up the angel's face at Crowley's reply was worth it, as it turned out.  
The next thing Aziraphale pulled out of his bag after he had put the deck of cards aside, was - much to Crowley's surprise - a book.

"It's a cookbook. I thought that maybe you would like to cook a little more since you seemed to enjoy it the last time. But if not, it's fine as well; I can use it just as much."

Aziraphale offered the book to Crowley with a smile, his eyes crinkling. The demon took it carefully. His hands were trembling the slightest bit as he traced the letters on the cover.

"I.. Thank you, angel. I've- I've never been given an actual present and that's- Thank you, angel. Aziraphale."

Crowley trailed off, slowly opening the book. He squinted at the page, prepared to be hit by blocks of text. To his great surprise, however, there were only three short columns of text, with letters that were big enough for Crowley to read comfortably.  
He looked up at Aziraphale with an astonished smile.

"I can read this! It works, angel, I'm able to read it!"

Aziraphale gave a small, confused chuckle.  
"Why shouldn't you be able to? I was under the impression you could read - after all you also read the myths while I was gone, didn't you?"

Crowley nodded slowly, his cheeks heating up slightly from the embarrassment of his outburst of emotions.

"I can read, I should have phrased that better. I know how to read, yes, but it's hard for me to focus on letters for too long. The snake-part of me makes it difficult to concentrate on something that's small and isn't moving. I, I get dizzy after a while and most of the time it leads to a headache."

Crowley threw a glance at the book of myths in his lap.

"That's also why it took me so long to read that one myth. I enjoy reading but it becomes strenuous quickly. So this, this cookbook is perfect, Master."

Crowley blanched.

"Angel! I'm, I'm sorry; I meant to call you angel. It wasn't on purpose, I promise-"

"It's fine, love," interrupted Aziraphale gently. "I appreciate that you're trying and it is absolutely no problem when you slip up sometimes. It's natural - you've been used to calling people "Master" for so long that it must be difficult to break that habit. I'm not mad - in the contrary, I'm happy you decided to try. And anyways, so far, you've been doing a good job."

Aziraphale smiled softly at Crowley, who nodded slightly. His fingers relaxed around the book and he let out a soft sigh.

"Thank you, angel. You're too kind and I'll try to remember more often. And thank you for the book. It's the best gift I've ever received. Thank you."

Crowley seemed genuinely grateful, holding the book gently. Aziraphale smiled at Crowley's obvious happiness. Had he known a small gift like this could bring the demon so much joy, he would have bought something for him a long time ago.  
The angel hid a grin at the thought of the last present he had in his bag. It was the one he was the proudest of, the one that had originally prompted him to go out shopping.

As Aziraphale pulled the last gift, the biggest by far, out of the bag, he saw Crowley's eyes widen. The box it came in depicted a mobile of the planetary system, the planets hanging on strings from a piece of wood, complete with smaller pieces of plastic hanging in between the planets, symbolizing stars.

Crowley drew in a sharp breath.

Aziraphale barely had enough time to place the box on the coffee table before the demon had gotten up from his seat and had made his way over to him. For a second, Aziraphale was convinced that Crowley would merely inspect the gift closer or open it maybe, but then, Crowley took another step forward and brought his arms up around Aziraphale.

At first, the angel could do nothing at all. He didn't move, didn't even dare breathe, too shocked by the way Crowley was holding onto him, as if for dear life. Then he reciprocated the hug, gently embracing the demon. He was careful not to squeeze too tightly even though he wished the hug would never end. It felt _fantastic_ , hugging Crowley, especially since _Crowley had initiated the hug_.

After a few more seconds, the demon slowly let go of the angel. Crowley let his hands fall down to where they touched Aziraphale's for just another moment, squeezing them gently.

"I," started Crowley before stopping and clearing his throat. His voice sounded scratchy and wavered but the expression on his face was a happy one.

For a few seconds, Crowley seemed to look for the right words to express what he was feeling, seemingly coning up empty-handed. Aziraphale relieved him of his struggle.

"It's alright, love, you don't have to say anything. I'm so, so happy that you are so excited because of the present and if you want to, I could help you set it up. And, Crowley," Aziraphale made sure to look into the demon's eyes as he spoke the next few words, "thank you. For hugging me, for trusting me in that regard and for accepting my gifts. It means a lot to me, it really does."

Crowley nodded, his throat tight. He saw another, much smaller and more private smile light up Aziraphale’s face.

"Well then, my dear, why don't you sit back down again and we can enjoy the fire together? If you want to, I can read a few of the recipes to you."

Crowley nodded once more and went back to his own seat, moving it just the slightest bit closer to Aziraphale. Why, he didn't know. He only knew that he felt something he hadn't felt in a long, long time - happiness.

 

\------

 

The next half hour the two of them spent sitting in front of the fire place, Aziraphale reading a few recipes to Crowley and explaining what the ingredients were or what specific actions meant.  
It wasn't nearly as interesting as reading the myths, but Aziraphale still was glad he could do something for Crowley, something that made Crowley happy.

The demon was curled up in his armchair, his eyes half-closed as they had been when Aziraphale had last read to him. One of his arms was laying stretched out on the chair's armrest, extended in a way that made Crowley's fingertips softly touch Aziraphale's chair. It was such a small thing, almost laughable to notice but it filled the angel with warmth. Crowley wasn't as careful to keep a distance to him as he had used to be and that alone was enough to bring up Aziraphale's hopes. The demon was making rapid progress and Aziraphale was sure that given enough time, Crowley would eventually recover from the horrors he had been forced to live through. And Aziraphale would give his best to be there for Crowley for every step of the way.

After about another half hour the fire, which had been steadily growing weaker, finally surrendered to its inevitable death. Crowley opened his eyes almost simultaneously and turned his head to look at the angel.

Aziraphale smiled and closed the book.

"Would you like to try out one of the recipes? It's almost lunch time and I'm starting to feel a little hungry."

At Crowley's affirming nod, which was much less shy than Aziraphale was used to he stood up and led the way to the kitchen, the cookbook tucked safely under his arm.

\---

Cooking, Crowley learned, was more fun than it seemed. Aziraphale had helped him choose a recipe that was easy as well as delicious, according to the angel at least and since Crowley had no previous experience with cooking, he followed the angel's lead. (Not that he would have done anything else, even if he had thought the food would turn out terrible.)

Currently, Crowley was cooking rice while Aziraphale was chopping pepper next to him. Crowley hadn't dared touching the knife but luckily, his Master had not been angry with him but had simply started cutting up the vegetables with quick motions, while instructing Crowley on how to cook rice. It was relaxing, almost, and the demon enjoyed having something to do, something to take care of.  
The recipe was easy enough - cook rice, chop and roast vegetables and put the finished meal on a plate.  
An added bonus was, of course, that the kitchen smelled delicious.

Crowley had never been one to actually eat much. In Eden, he hadn't seen the need to and after... His Masters had rarely ever allowed him to eat anything at all, seeing as he didn't need it to survive. And why would they provide their slave with such a luxury as food?

Aziraphale's voice interrupted Crowley's thoughts.

"The rice should be done, love. Would you please check?"

Crowley did as asked, throwing a quick, questioning glance at Aziraphale, who nodded approvingly.

"Very good. Stir it one last time and then you can put some on our plates. But not too much for me please - rice always fills me up completely."

Crowley did as asked, heaping four spoonfuls of rice on Aziraphale's and three spoonfuls on his own plate. He wasn't sure what the appropriate amount of rice was, having never eaten it before, but he was careful to give his Master more rice than him. It seemed wrong to assume he could dare to eat the same amount as the angel, or even _more_.

Humming softly, Aziraphale put some of the vegetables on both his and Crowley's plate before bringing two glasses of water to the table. The angel smiled as he sat down opposite to the demon.

"I hope you like it. I rarely cook things myself - I eat out more often than not - and it's been a while since I've prepared a meal myself. But seeing as this one was an easy one I think it should have turned out quite well."

Crowley gave a small nod and waited for the angel to start eating so he could, too. He didn't dare starting without permission but knew that Aziraphale wanted him to be a little more autonomous. Waiting for his Master to begin seemed like a good compromise.

Aziraphale took his first forkful and closed his eyes in bliss. Crowley watched as a smile spread over the angel's face.

"This is delicious, dear! We should," Aziraphale gestured at the food with sweeping motions, "definitely cook more often. Maybe dessert the next time!"

Crowley nodded shyly and ducked his head before tentatively taking a bite of his food.  
The flavour surprised him.  
The only things Crowley could remember eating recently were the fruits Aziraphale had given him as well as the salad his Master and him had made a few weeks ago. This was nothing like either of the two foods.

The main difference was that this meal was a warm one; a stark contrast to the cold food Crowley had eaten so far. It tasted _good_ and Crowley enjoyed the consistency of the rice. He could see now why the angel had seemed so happy when he had taken that first bite.  
“Do you like it?”  
Crowley nodded quickly before swallowing.  
“Very much, Master. Thank you. I also enjoyed the cooking itself – it’s calming.”  
Aziraphale smiled gently. 

“I know. It’s part of why I like it as well. Would you be open to maybe cooking together more often? We could try different recipes and maybe you could find some meals that you love eating.”

Crowley nodded softly. He liked the idea of that – it would mean he could do something to improve his skills and maybe, if he got good enough, he could also cook a meal for the angel as a surprise, as soon as he had found out what Aziraphale liked. 

For a few more minutes, the two of them ate in silence, Crowley savouring the taste of rice and vegetables. The spices Aziraphale had instructed him to use – he couldn’t remember their names – added to the experience and Crowley thought that he wouldn’t mind eating this meal again.  


All too soon, however, his plate was empty and Crowley was feeling full. He leaned back with the smallest of sighs, watching as Aziraphale ate the last few bites of his food. The angel seemed to thoroughly enjoy eating, Crowley noticed. It seemed to make him happy. The discovery only reinforced the demon’s plan of preparing a meal for Aziraphale as a surprise as soon as he had gotten better at cooking.  
As Aziraphale got up to wash their plates and cutlery, Crowley hastily stood up, holding his hand out to Aziraphale.  


“May I, Master? I will do the washing-up you since you did most of the cooking and I haven’t served you today. It’s-“ _It’s my duty_ , Crowley had wanted to add but the pained look on Aziraphale’s face had stopped him right before he could speak the words. The angel shook his head.  


“Of course you can help me, Crowley, but not if you do it because you feel you haven’t served me enough today. I don’t _want_ you to serve me, that’s not the kind of relationship I want to have with you. I’d be happy if you wanted to help me clean the dishes but don’t do so because you feel it is your obligation or you do so because of your “position”. Living together should be about equality and helping each other out of our own free will, not because someone made you believe you needed to because you were lesser. You aren’t, Crowley, and I want you to know that. We’re _equals_ , Crowley.”  


Aziraphale’s mouth was turned down and Crowley thought he could see the barest trembling in his lips. The demon felt slightly numb.  


He supposed he had known that his Ma- the angel felt that way about him – that he did see them as equals, as absurd as that sounded, but hearing it said out loud was still a shock. Crowley’s stomach clenched as if the meal from earlier would come up again. But Aziraphale was still looking at him with a mix of anger, hurt and care in his eyes and Crowley found himself unable to do anything but clench his teeth and nod in response.  


The angel’s words hadn’t upset him, exactly, but it felt as if a wound inside of him had ripped open. He felt vulnerable and averted his eyes from the angel’s.  


“Then... Can I help you because I want to? Since we... Since we both ate and it would only be- only be fair for the both of us to wash the plates.”  


Aziraphale nodded and Crowley released a deep breath as the angel turned away from him, facing the sink. He felt hurt, for some reason, and angry, all of a sudden, as if something that had used to be his had been taken away from him. Crowley didn’t know why or at whom the anger was directed but for some reason he couldn’t explain to himself, he knew that those emotions weren’t directed at Aziraphale.  


Quietly, Crowley started drying off the things Aziraphale handed to him. He was careful not to miss any wet spots and was relieved to have something to concentrate on besides the thoughts swirling through his head.When Crowley had cleaned and put away the last fork, Aziraphale cleared his throat softly.  


“Would you like to go back to the living room? I could explain the playing cards to you, if you wanted.”  


The angel looked so happy at the prospect, so _hopeful_ , that Crowley couldn’t help but smile a little as he nodded. He would have agreed anyways – he wasn’t _stupid_ , he knew better than to disagree, especially after his Master had been angry with him just minutes ago – but he unexpectedly found himself actually looking forward to learning about the game Aziraphale had brought home, especially since it brought Aziraphale joy.  


Although the demon felt a slight twinge of nerves at the thought of a _game_ of all things – games had never meant anything good for him in the past – he pushed the negative thoughts away as best as he could. For some reason he trusted Aziraphale not to have chosen a game that would harm Crowley. Well, not on purpose, at the very least.  


\---  


Aziraphale, Crowley found out, was a surprisingly good and avid teacher. He seemed to like the game he had bought, which was, as he had explained, _”intended as a game for children, but I refuse to let myself be restricted by that and it is just as lovely to play when you’re an adult.”_ Aziraphale had explained to Crowley that he had bought this game specifically because of its easy rules and since it was a generally enjoyable one.  


The first thing Crowley noticed about the game – UNO, as Aziraphale had called it – was that it was incredibly colourful. The next was that apparently, there were no stakes, at all. Aziraphale had only looked at him weirdly when Crowley had dared asking what would happen to ~~him~~ the loser. The angel had explained that usually, when someone lost, another round would be played, a rematch of sorts. It made no sense to Crowley – a game without repercussions?  


But Aziraphale, unaware of Crowley’s confusion, had not given the demon much more time to think about what he had just been told, and had started handing out cards.  


The first round had gone by only very slowly. Crowley had had to think about every move carefully, trying not to lead a card that could potentially make him win. While Crowley felt uncomfortable at the thought of losing, no matter what Aziraphale had told him about there being no repercussions, the feeling didn’t even remotely compare to the fear he felt when he thought about himself _winning_.  


He wasn’t supposed to win anything, Crowley was aware of that, but the thought of winning a game against his _Master_ was especially nauseating. Winning would put Crowley in a position above Aziraphale, no matter how briefly, and if Crowley knew one thing it was that Masters would never tolerate their servants to be placed above them in any way. 

Admittedly, so far Aziraphale had not acted at all like Crowley’s previous Masters, but then again, the angel had also never been in a position where his power over Crowley might have been questioned. If the demon were to win, Aziraphale would have to take measures to show Crowley that he was the one who held power over him, not the other way round.  


And because Crowley didn’t want to risk being even anywhere _near_ winning, he was very careful to play his cards in the worst way possible. It took energy and concentration, probably more than it would have had Crowley played normally, but seeing the angel win the third time in a row, made it worth it.  


Slowly, the knot of nerves in Crowley’s stomach eased. The game was surprisingly enjoyable, and the angel a good game partner. He talked almost the whole time, a steady stream of information or small anecdotes the angel had collected over the years in regards to UNO. Apparently, Aziraphale had played the game with many acquaintances over the years. Crowley slowly became more comfortable with the situation; the fire Aziraphale had lit crackling softly behind him. 

He felt himself relax, and maybe that was why he made his mistake.  


Without Crowley ever really noticing, he was suddenly holding only one card anymore whereas his Master still had four more. Fear surged through the demon, his throat suddenly dry as he realised the situation he had found himself in.  


“You’ve got to say Uno, love.”  


Aziraphale’s words sounded kind, no trace of malice in them, no hidden anger. He was smiling at Crowley, almost as if he were proud of him. Crowley swallowed hard.  


“Uno.” The word came out quietly, his voice trembling a little. Maybe he could still lose, if he tried hard enough he would surely... But Aziraphale didn’t lay down a card but instead drew another one from the staple. The blue five in Crowley’s slightly trembling hand perfectly matched the blue three in front of him on the coffee table.  


For a second, the thought of cheating crossed Crowley’s mind. Maybe, if he just pretended not to have a matching colour or number... But surely, the repercussions for cheating, for trying to flee his fate would be far worse than simply accepting what was bound to happen. Crowley breathed in deeply.  


It should have been laughable, being so afraid of simply laying a card onto a table, but the fear that had spread through the demon’s body was too all-consuming for Crowley to find something even somewhat amusing about the situation. With one last, deep breath, Crowley laid the card down.  


“You’ve won!”  


The angel sounded happy and excited for him, as far as Crowley could tell. He didn’t dare looking up from the spot on the floor he was currently staring at, his body hunched in on himself, his hands formed to fists. His nails were digging into his palms.  


Opposite to him, he heard Aziraphale move and drew in a shuddering breath. Now his Master would come and hurt him, all because he had won. He was sorry, he hadn’t meant to win, he hadn’t meant to, he had tried to lose, he had tried to-  


“Crowley, love? Are you alright?”  


Aziraphale’s voice was still gentle, the angel standing next to Crowley’s armchair. Crowley tried to make himself look even smaller.  


“I’m sorry,” he rasped, “I’m sorry, Sir, I didn’t mean to- I shouldn’t have won, I’m sssssorry-“  


Suddenly, there were arms encircling Crowley. He felt the angel hold him gently, not too tightly and without him ever wanting to, Crowley’s body relaxed. He sacked into Aziraphale’s embrace, sobbing and hiccupping as if a dam had been broken.  


“I’m sorry, I’m ssssory. I should’ve lost, I didn’t mean to win, please don’t punish me-“  


_Disgusting_ , part of his mind snarled at Crowley, _look at yourself begging, as if that would change your fate. As if you deserved kindness._  


“Shhh, love, you’re alright. Everything’s alright. I’m not going to hurt you; it’s alright that you have won. I’m happy for you! Everything will be alright, dear, I won’t hurt you. It’s alright.”  


Slowly, Crowley’s panicked breaths evened out, leaving him exhausted and worn-out. Aziraphale was still hugging him, still soothing him and Crowley’s neck heated up in embarrassment. What had he been _thinking_ , breaking down like that? It wouldn’t lessen his punishment, but only make it worse.  


After a few more seconds, Aziraphale released Crowley gentle. The demon’s face was red and puffy, a few last tears running down his face. Aziraphale had no idea what had caused Crowley to react that harshly, especially to winning the game. Had he thought Aziraphale would be upset with him for _winning_?  


“Please talk to me, Crowley. What happened just now? I’m not mad,” added Aziraphale hastily as he saw the demon flinch, “but I want to understand. Are you sad because you won? Why?”  


Crowley blinked a few times, his gaze focussed on Aziraphale’s right shoulder.  


“I... I thought you were going to, to punish me, Master. For winning the game. It,” Crowley’s gaze wandered down, his hands starting to fiddle with the sleeve of his shirt, “It isn’t right for me to win. You should win, since you’re my Ma- since you’re above me and I thought... Michael sometimes used to punish me when I won ‘games’ she had designed. And I... I was afraid you’d do the same. Angel.”  


Crowley dared casting a quick glance at where Aziraphale was sitting, the angel’s face a mixture of sadness and sympathy.  


“Oh Crowley, love. I would never hurt you, especially not over something like winning a game. Games are supposed to be fun and I am so happy that you won! It’s a success and not at all a bad thing. I’m not mad at you, love. On the contrary – I’m proud of you. You did many new things today and mastered all of them. I’m sorry if I overwhelmed you, that was never my intention.”  


Aziraphale gently took one of the demon’s hands in his.  


“I’m happy you won, love, and I would never hurt you. I’m sorry that I was cross with you earlier in the kitchen, I realise that it must have hurt you.”  


Crowley opened his mouth to object – the incident in the kitchen had had nothing to do with his breakdown - but Aziraphale continued speaking, oblivious to Crowley’s protests.  


“Please be assured that I would never be mad at you for winning something or for wanting to help me or anything along those lines. You are not beneath me, I am not above you. We are equals, Crowley. And I hope that one day, you will learn to see it that way, too.”  


Aziraphale smiled, a sad smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes, ad squeezed Crowley’s hands gently before releasing them.  


“I’ll better pack the game together now. I didn’t mean for it to scare you that much.”  


Something in Crowley twisted and he shook his head quickly.  


“Please don’t,” he murmured. “I’d like to try again. If that would be alright.”  


Aziraphale smiled gently.  


“You don’t have to, love, you know that, right?”  


Crowley nodded.  
“I know, angel. But I want to. Please.”  


Aziraphale nodded and stepped away from the cards on the table, returning to his own armchair. He watched as Crowley handed out the cards, his hands having stopped trembling.  


This time, the angel watched Crowley’s reactions closely. Even though he bit his lip the first few times he managed to play a card and Aziraphale didn’t, he slowly started to relax again, his body becoming less tense. The first three rounds, Aziraphale won, Crowley briefly smiling at him after every round.  


The fourth round, however, had started out terrible for Aziraphale from the beginning and it came as no surprise when Crowley was the first one to hesitantly say “Uno”. The demon’s hand trembled a little as he laid his last card down on the coffee table and he looked up at Aziraphale anxiously, who only smiled at him in return.  


“Well done.”  


Crowley gave the barest hint of a smile at the praise and reached for the pack of cards again to shuffle them, his hands now completely still. He won the next three rounds as well, not even looking up at Aziraphale for confirmation at the last one.  


After the seventh and final round, which Aziraphale had won, the angel declared the game to be over, seeing as he had been tired for the last three rounds. Crowley had relaxed gradually and was now leaning back in his chair, looking tired and almost happy. He had the last gift Aziraphale had bought for him – the box containing the planetary system – on his lap and was tracing patterns on it with his fingers.  


“If you’d like to, we could open it tomorrow. Or you could do it alone, if you’d prefer that.” Aziraphale had risen from his armchair, extinguishing the fire, his back turned to Crowley. He missed the small, grateful smile the demon threw in his direction.  


“I’d enjoy that, angel. Together would be nice, if you wouldn’t mind.”  


Aziraphale hummed and nodded before standing up and walking over to Crowley.  


“Of course. Just tell me tomorrow when you want to. And thank you for today. I enjoyed it very much, and you are an extraordinarily good UNO-player.”  


A small, real smile broke out on Crowley’s face at the compliment. He stood up, yawning a little.  


“Thank you, angel. And thank you... Thank you for the gifts. It was the nicest thing anyone has ever done to me. Thank you.”  


Crowley hesitated for a second before quickly taking a step towards Aziraphale, hugging him for the briefest of moments.  


“Thank you,” he whispered one last time before letting go and turning around to walk towards his room, the planetary system tucked safely under his arm.  


“You’re welcome,” said Aziraphale softly, a smile spread over his face. He gave Crowley’s retreating form a last soft, fond look before sitting back down in his chair, ready to curl up with a good book and think about the events of the day.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!  
> This took a little longer than I planned. I haven't been feeling well the past couple weeks and this chapter is more of a filler with wing grooming and fluff to make me feel better, instead of straight plot :)  
> (but there's a lot of character progress going on!)  
> I hope you enjoy it nevertheless!!!
> 
> Also, the incredibly talented ShannonRene1 drew fanart!! She's amazing and terrifyingly talented and I'm honoured that someone drew fanart for this. Thank you!!  
> Check out her work (It's great, I promise):
> 
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/21654625/chapters/51638671#workskin

"Can you still perform miracles?"  
It was something Aziraphale had wondered about few times already but so far, he had always forgotten it too quickly again to actually ask Crowley about it. The angel was also well aware that the topic might be a sensitive one for the demon - after all, he could not be sure that Gabriel or another angel hadn't seriously damaged Crowley's abilities to do magic.

But now, sitting together in the living room with a surprisingly relaxed atmosphere, Aziraphale had asked without thinking much about it beforehand, not wanting to forget again.  
The angel realised belatedly that he probably should have phrased his question better. What if he had unintentionally brought up horrible memories the demon had wanted to forget?

But Crowley merely shook his head, his expression relatively calm.

"No, angel. I could once, of course, but I wasn't allowed for a long time and every time I tried to, I'd be... punished. So I haven't tried in a long time. I doubt I'd be able to."

Aziraphale nodded thoughtfully.  
After Crowley's panic attack two days ago when they had tried playing UNO, he had given the demon as much space as he could, no matter how much he had wanted to take care of him.

The angel knew that eventually, Crowley would have to become independent enough to deal with his emotions and problems on his own and he did not want to possibly complicate that progress by being too overbearing.  
Therefore, he had given Crowley time and space to deal with the problem on his own and judging from the atmosphere between them, which had slowly started to become a bit more relaxed again (or at least as relaxed as it ever had been), it had worked.

Aziraphale hummed.

"Would you like me to try and teach you sometime, maybe?"

He kept his facial expression as neutral as possible, not wanting to pressure Crowley into anything.  
For a fleeting moment, Aziraphale saw something fly over Crowley's face, resignation perhaps, before it was replaced by determination and no small amount of fear. 

"I- Maybe in the future but- But not now, angel. Please. Please not too soon. I don't... I don't think I'm quite ready for that yet."

Crowley looked slightly pale after he had stopped speaking, avoiding the angel's eyes, his fingers digging into the armchair's pillow. But he had said No, had dared to refuse Aziraphale's offer because he didn't want to and that alone was so much more than the angel had expected him to do.

"That's perfectly fine, love. Thank you for telling me. And of course I could try and teach you another day, just tell me when you'd like me to."

Crowley nodded, a small thing, and now Aziraphale could not help the proud smile that spread over his face as he picked up his book.  
After a few more seconds, Crowley himself also opened his cookbook again, the two of them continuing reading in silence, just like they had been doing the whole morning.

\---

After the first few lines, Crowley already had difficulties concentrating on reading. This time, however, it wasn't because of the small, unmoving letters but rather because of the answer he had just dared to give his Master.

The angel's question about his magic had come as a surprise to Crowley. It had reminded him of his time with Beelzebub, who had been especially fond of mocking and humiliating Crowley via the use of his powers.

The other demon had enjoyed forcing Crowley to perform small miracles only to punish him whenever he succeeded. It had led to a pavlovian response so severe that Crowley had not once performed a miracle ever since Beelzebub had given him away. Too deeply ingrained was the fear of pain and ridicule to even attempt using his powers.  
He had tried his best to forget that he even _could_ do magic, not wanting to mourn the loss of another thing that had once been his.

Crowley shifted a little in his armchair.  
His palms were still slightly sweaty from daring to decline his Master's offer of training him and his breath was only now slowing back down to its normal speed.  
He had expected all those reactions of his body - they usually came when he was nervous or afraid - but what he hadn't expected was the faint sensation of _pride_ that had come afterwards. 

Crowley didn't exactly want to pinpoint why he felt that way since he suspected it would lead to a whole new wave of fear and anxiety, but he allowed himself to revel in the feeling for just a little longer.  
It had been a long, _long_ time since he had last felt anything but disgust, anger or shame towards himself and he enjoyed the unexpected change.

Crowley dared casting a quick glance at Aziraphale, who was sitting opposite to him. The angel was immersed in his book, his eyebrows drawn together ever so slightly. The demon quickly averted his gaze again, not wanting to attract Aziraphale's attention. 

The past two days had been... weird for Crowley, to say the least. He had had a lot of time to do nothing but simply _think_ and he wasn't quite sure he liked it. His thoughts seemed to have gone round after round after round, not resulting in anything but a feeling of embarrassment and injustice.

The embarrassment Crowley could easily understand - he had had a breakdown over a game of cards, had needed his _Master_ of all people to help him calm down again.  
Though Crowley felt embarrassed whenever he thought of that incident, there was a different feeling of shame too, a much worse one.

Sometimes, he felt it creep in when he was laying in bed at night, unable to sleep. Other times tendrils of hot, bitter shame wrapped themselves around him when he was sitting in the living room with Aziraphale, when the angel said something nice to him or even simply when Crowley was just thinking about him.  
The demon didn't know what prompted those feelings of shame and inadequacy but he loathed them with an unexpected passion. They were new to him and made him feel downright _dirty_ in a way he had never experienced before.

The other feeling, the one of injustice and anger almost, was much harder to explain. He had felt it for the first time when his Master had declined his offer to wash the dishes after they had cooked together. So far, the demon had done his best to forget it. It didn't do well to dwell on such feelings for too long, anger especially. It would only serve to make Crowley more miserable, since really, what right did he have to be angry?

Opposite to him, Aziraphale shifted in his chair, making the demon look up sharply. But his Master had only moved a little, not even glancing at Crowley, too immersed in his book.  
A sudden, unexpected feeling of warmth spread through Crowley.  
Although the UNO-game two days ago had been more than just terrifying to him, it didn't overpower the memory of getting gifts, real ones, not ones intended for hurting him.

Crowley still couldn't quite believe Aziraphale's generosity. Never before had he met someone - much less a _Master_ \- who wanted to do something that Crowley would enjoy, who wanted to make him happy. The angel had obviously chosen the gifts carefully, and the mere thought of the planetary system, which was safely placed underneath his bed, made Crowley's heart swell.

He had missed his stars, his creations for millennia, only sometimes catching glimpses of them in Heaven, when a Master of his had decided to punish him by showing him what had once been his, what had been created by him.  
Gabriel especially had liked mocking Crowley for his stars, making him admire them in all their glory only to then be brought back to Gabriel's apartment where Crowley would once more be locked in, unable to fly to the stars like he so desperately wanted to.

So really, Crowley had only ever had his stars and planets taken away from him, not given to him. Aziraphale's gift meant so much more to him than the angel could probably ever comprehend, filled Crowley with so much happiness and a sense of freedom and utter love for his creations that his Master would never understand.

Crowley slowly turned the page he had been staring at for the past few minutes. He should actually _read_ some of the recipes if he wanted to pick one to cook for the angel and not just fantasise about the stars and his planetary system. He hoped that later, he would still have enough time to think about his gift in detail and maybe, maybe even open it, if his Master allowed it.  
Crowley ignored the sudden happiness and excitement that threatened to overtake him at the thought of _opening_ the planetary system.  
There would always be time for that later.  
Now, he had to concentrate on finding a recipe suited to his Master's tastes.

\---

The next half hour passed in silence, but not the uncomfortable kind. Aziraphale thoroughly enjoyed the time he spent simply reading with Crowley, not only because he was reading an _excellent_ book, but also because it seemed to relax the demon as well. He was paging through his cookbook, frowning ever so slightly, seemingly very concentrated. Every so often he would form the words with his mouth while reading them which was, to Aziraphale, one of the most adorable things he had ever seen.

By now, Crowley was slouching ever so slightly in his chair, something the angel took as a good sign. In general, the demon seemed to be much more relaxed, especially in comparison to the first few months he had lived here.  
It made Aziraphale happy to see that Crowley was ever so slowly starting to become a bit more comfortable, had maybe even formed the slightest sliver of trust in regards to Aziraphale. It spoke of the huge progress the demon was making every single day.

With a small thud, Aziraphale closed his book before standing up and stretching a little, attracting Crowley's attention. 

"I just finished reading, love, please don't let yourself be disturbed by me - you can keep reading if you want to. I just need to move around a little."

As Aziraphale had predicted he would, Crowley shook his head and got up quickly. 

"Thank you angel, but I've also finished reading the recipes I wanted to. May I help you somehow?"

Aziraphale shook his head, smiling a little.

"No thank you, love. I was just thinking of maybe starting a new book or grooming my wings a little. They've been feeling slightly uncomfortable for the past few days now and I don't want them to become much more untidy. You can keep reading or do whatever you want, dear boy, don't let yourself be disturbed by me."

Crowley nodded slightly, his eyes darting around the room before they settled on Aziraphale's. He swallowed visibly. 

"Could I... Could I help you with grooming your wings? I would like- I would like to do it for you."

Although Crowley was speaking much quieter than usual and was visibly nervous, his eyes did not leave the angel's. Sudden warmth spread through Aziraphale, him not having expected that offer at all.

"You don't have to, love, I'll manage grooming them on my own just fine. But of course, if you'd really want to, I would be happy to let you care for my wings."

Aziraphale smiled at Crowley, who nodded again, this time with more determination.

"I'd like to, angel. I enjoyed it the last time and I want to help you, if that's what... If that would also be alright with you."

"Of course, love, you did a lovely job the last time. Would you mind starting right now?"

Crowley shook his head, taking a small step forward.

"I'll bring the spray bottle from my room, Master. It'll only take a minute."

While Crowley went to retrieve the bottle, Aziraphale set about preparing the living room. He liked a bit more space when grooming his wings, which was why he enlarged the sofa and pushed all the piles of books to the side so that in the middle of the room there was a large, empty space, perfect for stretching out his wings all he liked.

Just after the angel had finished putting the last few books away, he heard Crowley's soft footsteps behind him. The demon held the spray bottle gingerly and took in the tidied living room with slight surprise.

"I wanted a bit more space for stretching my wings out," explained Aziraphale. Then he added in a softer voice, "Would you also like me to groom your wings? I assume that they're still hurt in some places and I could take a look at that. Heal them, if you'd let me."

Aziraphale gave Crowley, who had tensed at the offer, a reassuring smile. He did not want to pressure the demon but thought that it would not only be nice to repay the favour but also that it was about time Crowley could use his wings again. Properly and without pain.

"You don't have to, of course. You can always say no."

Crowley shook his head, placing the spray bottle on the armrest of the sofa. 

"I would be grateful if you did, angel. But I don't- I don't know whether my wings can be fixed at all. The damage was done so long ago and I haven't used them ever since. Please don't... Please don't be angry with me if you cannot fix them, Master. Please."

Aziraphale gently shook his head, leading Crowley to the sofa. They sat down facing each other.

"I promise I won't and if it's alright with you, I'd like to try, love. Usually, when one of the other angels hurt their wings, we could fix them with Grace. I assume that it would also work on yours but I understand if you're uncomfortable with me using my Grace on you. It's up to you. Whatever you choose is fine by me."

Crowley still looked unsure, biting his lip hard enough that it made Aziraphale wince just looking at him. After a few more seconds of silence, he spoke hesitantly, not looking up from where his gaze was focussed on the floor.

"Could I tell you after I groomed your wings, angel? I would like to think a little more about it if that is alright for you. Should... Could I start with yours now?"

Aziraphale nodded softly.

"Of course, love. Thank you for taking your time with that decision - it means a lot to me, since I imagine it's not an easy one and I don't want to make you uncomfortable by doing something you might not want. Just be assured that whatever you choose is fine by me."

He smiled at Crowley, who smiled back, although looking a little confused. Then, Aziraphale began unbuttoning his waistcoat, trying to get a little more comfortable. With another quick smile in the demon's direction, he turned around, settling on his knees.  
The angel unfolded his wings with a soft _whoosh_ , the tips of his feathers just touching the floor.  
It felt good, being able to open his wings again, putting them into the hands of someone he trusted.

This time, the demon didn't hesitate to touch Aziraphale's wings. The angel felt Crowley stroke over his primary feathers softly, his touch light. Crowley wouldn't have to do much - maybe right some feathers, smooth them out a little, Aziraphale thought. Maybe he should ask the demon to use some preening oil to make his wings even softer. He should still have a bottle lying around somewhere...

"Is there anything specific you want me to do?"

Crowley's voice was soft, as if he were trying not to interrupt the slight state of relaxation Aziraphale was already in just from having his wings touched.  
The angel hummed, nodding.

"If you'd be so kind as to use some preening oil? I should still have a bottle laying around somewhere."

Aziraphale twisted, looking around in the living room, trying to find the vial in question. If only he could remember where he had put it...

"I... It should be in the drawer over there," sounded Crowley's voice. "I put it there when I was tidying up a few days ago."

"Oh thank you, love! I will just quickly get it-"

But Crowley had already gotten up, walking over to the to the drawer, opening it with a little more force than strictly necessary. He hurried back to Aziraphale, holding the vial protectively. As soon as Crowley had sat down behind the angel, he resumed his soft stroking again. He started by entangling whatever was needed, aligning the feathers, just like he had done the last time. Now, of course, there was a lot less work for him to do - after all, it hadn't been that long since their last wing grooming session. 

Aziraphale felt himself relax under Crowley's ministrations, the soft stroking almost like a massage. His left wing, with which Crowley had started, leaned almost subconsciously closer to the demon, laying itself across his lap. It was a vulnerable position Aziraphale was in but he found he did not mind. He trusted Crowley not to hurt him - after all, if the demon had wanted to, he would have done so the last time he had groomed Aziraphale's wings.

The angel let his shoulders sag slightly, his eyes fluttering close as Crowley started to gently massage his wings with slightly more pressure than before.  
God, this felt _heavenly_. How had he gone so long without regular wing grooming?

Before Crowley had been... given to him, he had been the only one to groom his wings in all the 6,000 years he had spent on Earth so far. The other angels, up in Heaven, they could ask each other for help and assistance if they wanted to do so. Aziraphale, however, had never been able to do that since he was the only angel on earth and therefore had been forced to groom his wings himself.

Of course he could care for his wings just fine on his own but what he was able to do alone was nothing in comparison to the gentle, careful job Crowley did.  
It felt _good_ , felt as if the demon really was making sure that Aziraphale enjoyed what he was doing. And Aziraphale wanted to do the same for him, wanted to show Crowley the same affection and care.

Because if anyone deserved gentleness and kindness, it was Crowley.

Aziraphale perked up a little when he heard Crowley unscrew the bottle of preening oil. He had not used it in a long time - it wasn't the most convenient thing to do on one's own - and he was looking forward to it. Preening oil was a luxury he only rarely allowed himself to indulge in and he could not wait to see how his wings would look after Crowley had used it. Speaking of Crowley...

"Crowley, love, would you also like me to use some oil on your wings? I imagine it could help them heal a little better but even if it doesn't, it still feels fantastic just on its own."

Crowley paused momentarily.

"If... That would be very kind of you, angel, but I don't want to waste your oil, Master."

Aziraphale shook his head resolutely before turning around so he could look into Crowley's eyes.

"You wouldn't be wasting it, dear boy," he said firmly. "I would love to use it on your wings if you'd allow me to do so. If you would rather I didn't, just say so. But please don't decline only because you think it would be a waste to use the oil on your feathers, because it wouldn't. You deserve that luxury just as much as I do."

From the corner of his eye, Aziraphale saw Crowley nod hesitantly. The demon looked a little unsure of himself but to Aziraphale's relief, there was no fear in his expression. 

"Then I'd like that, angel. Thank you. You're too kind to me."

Before Aziraphale could protest that statement, Crowley was once more stroking his wings, this time with a bit more pressure and the preening oil coating his hands. It almost felt as if he wanted to keep the angel from talking by distracting him, but given what Crowley was doing, Aziraphale found he did not mind one bit.  
The oil emitted the slightest smell, sweet and relaxing, a scent the angel had begun associating with relaxation and comfort. Aziraphale bit back a sigh as Crowley combed his fingers through an especially tangled part, the oil making it much easier to part the soft, white feathers.

The angel let his whole body relax, even more than earlier, his head bow bowed and back slightly curved.  
The next few minutes passed in silence as everything surrounding Aziraphale became background noise, him just concentrating on the feeling of Crowley's hands in his feathers.

It was incredibly intimate, left Aziraphale in a vulnerable position, but the angel could not complain. He trusted Crowley and saw no reason not to relax and enjoy the demon's massage for as long as Crowley would let him.

-

After another couple minutes, the demon stopped. Crowley had been grooming Aziraphale's wings for much longer than necessary, having been able to tell that he enjoyed it a lot. The extra time also had brought the added benefit that the angel's wings were now shiny and looked even better than they had the last time, pristine white and well cared-for.  
Crowley was happy with himself. It always satisfied him to know that he had done something well and the wing grooming was no exception. The preening oil gave the angel's feathers the slightest shine and would serve to make his wings smoother and stronger. All in all, it was a job well done.

Slowly, Aziraphale turned around, not yet retracting his wings again. He smiled, seeming genuinely happy with an incredibly relaxed look on his face Crowley had not seen before. The demon couldn't help it - he had to smile back, his mouth quirking up the tiniest bit, just enough to be noticeable.

Aziraphale _beamed_.

"Thank you, my dear," he said, now stretching his wings out, admiring them. They looked gorgeous, and Crowley once more was in awe of the pure splendour of them, white and big, so unlike his own.

"You did a marvellous job, my dear boy. I dare say I haven't felt that relaxed in a while - the last wing grooming notwithstanding, of course. Thank you so much, Crowley. It means a lot to me that you would to this for me."

Crowley ducked his head slightly, biting his lip. He was unsure what to say - he had not expected praise at all, but especially not as much as he had just gotten. It was unfamiliar but not unwelcome, filling him with strange warmth.

"You're welcome, angel. Thank you for uh, for trusting me with your wings. I'm happy that you are pleased with the job I did."

Crowley attempted another smile, this one, albeit a bit unsure, also bigger than the last one. To his relief, his Master returned it, his eyes crinkling. 

"Would you like me to care for yours now?"

Crowley froze.  
He had been waiting for that question ever since he had stopped grooming the angel's wings. It was also the reason why he had tended to them for longer than necessary, not having wanted Aziraphale to start with his own wings just yet.  
It wasn't that Crowley did not want Aziraphale to groom his wings, not really. After all, last time it had been relaxing, and he had felt better after the angel had cared for his wings. He had felt cleaner, somehow, a little less ashamed maybe.

Of course, those positive feeling had been somewhat overshadowed by the memory of his stars, which the grooming had brought back. But still - it had felt good and Crowley had allowed himself to relax and trust another person, even if just for a little while.

The thought of _trusting_ Aziraphale did not startle the demon as much as it once would have had. He had slowly, hesitantly begun accepting that he was starting to trust Aziraphale, little by little.  
It was a notion so unfamiliar and terrifying that Crowley had felt faint after he had first realised it. He did not outright trust Aziraphale, not yet - there was still too much left unsaid, too many wounds that were still healing - but Crowley had the (quite frankly frightening) suspicion that given enough time, he _could._

The soft rustling of feathers interrupted Crowley's mess of thoughts.  
Aziraphale had turned around, looking slightly confused.

"Are you alright, love? If you don't want me to groom your wings, you can say so. I wouldn't hold it against you."

Crowley quickly shook his head. He must have been quiet for longer than he thought he had and he did not want the angel to think he would refuse the wing grooming.

"I would like you to groom them if you'd be so generous as to do so. I just..., I-" Crowley looked away, trying to find the right words.  
"Would you... Would you maybe tell me before you use your Grace to heal them? It's just... I haven't- My previous Masters-"

The angel interrupted him gently.

"It's fine love, you don't have to justify yourself for that. I know that you haven't had the best experiences with an angel's Grace in the past and I'll do my best to make my use of it as painless as possible. And either way - I would like to start by simply grooming your wings, and healing them only afterwards."

Crowley nodded, relief plain on his face. Without further prompting, he turned around, back now facing Aziraphale, and unfolded his wings. 

They looked better, the angel noticed, not too tangled, even though some time had passed since Aziraphale had groomed them. The angel ran his hand along one of the bent feathers, checking the damage. 

Crowley hissed slightly at the contact and Aziraphale quickly apologised. Although the area was sensitive, it didn't seem as if Crowley's wings were hurt too badly. They had healed relatively well, especially after Aziraphale had tended to them the last time, and the fact that Crowley had not used them in what was presumably years, seemed to had helped a lot.

As promised, Aziraphale started by simply preening the wings, first smoothing out feathers and aligning them. Crowley relaxed quickly, breath going audibly slower. Aziraphale's fingers moved swiftly through the demon's wings, parting feathers and stroking some softly. He was still awestruck by how incredibly gorgeous the demon's wings were, how unique.  
Aziraphale took his time with smoothing the out and untangling them but seeing as there really was not much for him to do, he was done sooner than he would have liked to.  
Aziraphale touched Crowley's shoulder gently.

"I'd use some of the preening oil now, love. Just so that you know."

Crowley hummed, nodding slightly and Aziraphale chuckled a little. Apparently, he was not the only one enjoying the intimacy that came with wing preening. Crowley was about as unresponsive as he had been, also lost in the feeling of utter relaxation.

Aziraphale unscrewed the small bottle, drizzling some of the oil on his palm, rubbing his hands quickly to warm it a little. Then, he dug his fingers into the feathers closest to Crowley’s back where he had noticed the demon was tense.  
The oil was not only good for strengthening one’s feathers but also lend itself to massages, which Aziraphale now took advantage of. Hearing Crowley let out a soft groan, the angel smiled to himself. He enjoyed taking care of the demon and from the looks of it Crowley enjoyed being taken care of.

After a while, Aziraphale moved on to the rest of Crowley’s wings, using a little more oil, taking care to coat most of the feathers with it. The sheen of the oil looked good on Crowley’s wings, making them gleam and it brought out the spots of colour in them even more. Aziraphale tried his best to gentle whenever he brushed over one of the injured feathers, not wanting to leave them out as the oil would make them stronger, but also not wanting to hurt Crowley.

After a few more minutes, Aziraphale wiped his fingers on a piece of cloth he had conjured a few seconds ago, and put the bottle down. He tapped Crowley’s shoulder gently, the demon turning around to face him. He looked relaxed and _happy_ , Aziraphale noted with a slight flutter of his stomach.

“I would start healing your wings now, love. There isn’t much to do, anyways – the wing grooming last time seemed to have helped a little and the oil will also take care of some of the more minor injuries. I just wanted to tell you, in case you had changed your mind about it.”

Crowley bit his lip, a small frown appearing on his face. The relaxed air around him vanished a little, something Aziraphale deeply regretted.

“I... thank you for telling me, Master. I don’t- I haven’t changed my mind. And I’m very grateful that you’re doing that for me but would you... would you be gentle? Please?”

The last word almost came out as a whisper and Aziraphale’s heart clenched.

“Of course, love. I’ll try my best not to hurt you and if I do so, please tell me immediately so that I can stop and try to find another way.”

Crowley nodded shyly before turning around quickly, seemingly wanting the ordeal to be over as quickly as possible. Aziraphale gently took the demon’s right wing, laying it out across his lap in a comfortable position so he could reach the hurt feathers better.

“I’ll start now, love. It might tingle a little at first, please don’t be alarmed,” warned the angel softly.

He took the first feather in his hand, holding it in between his fingers before bringing his other hand down to touch it. He let a small trickle of his Grace flow through his fingers to the injured feather, strengthening it again. He focussed on the shaft, mending it as well as he could. The vane was also affected by his Grace, Aziraphale noticed, it now looking much healthier, fitting better with the rest of the healthy feathers. As soon as the feather was not bent anymore but instead straight and slightly flexible as it should be, Aziraphale stopped, letting go of it and softly smoothing it out again.

Crowley hadn’t moved or made a single sound during the whole process, and Aziraphale was slightly worried. Had he hurt Crowley that badly?

“Are you alright, love? Did I hurt you?”

The demon shook his head quickly. “I'm fine, Master. It... it didn’t hurt at all.” Crowley sounded astonished. “It actually felt kind of... nice? It, it tingled as you said it would, but it didn’t hurt, Thank you, angel. I- I hope it wasn’t too much of a bother.” Crowley’s voice softened at the last words and Aziraphale was quick to answer.

“It was not bother at all. If you’d be fine with it, I would like to mend the rest now, yes, love? If at any point it becomes too much, just say so and I will stop.”

After Crowley’s affirming nod, Aziraphale set to work once more, taking the next feather and repeating the process. It wasn’t a job quickly done but it required little effort and the angel had always liked when he could concentrate on a task. He let himself relax into the monotony of it, lifting a feather ever so slightly, touching it softly and sending his Grace through it before smoothing it out again and moving to the next one.

It took longer than the previous two steps had but Aziraphale could not complain. After all, he was relieving Crowley from pain, Crowley who trusted him enough to let and angel use his Grace on him, even after he had had more than just one bad experience with that in the past.

//

The soft tingling that he felt whenever Aziraphale healed another feather slowly made its way down the length of Crowley’s right wing, indicating the progress the angel made. It was not an uncomfortable feeling and though at first Crowley had been afraid of how Aziraphale’s Grace would feel on a place as sensitive as his wings he had to admit that it felt almost good. Relaxing, definitely.

Crowley was looking straight ahead, his eyes only half open, his hands lying in his lap. So far, he had enjoyed the wing grooming tremendously, especially when Aziraphale had massaged the preening oil into his feathers. It had felt amazing, a soft sensation Crowley had never before experienced and he could not wait to see how it had affected his wings.

All in all this wing grooming session of theirs was much, _much_ better than the last one, since now Crowley knew what to expect. And, Crowley admitted hesitantly, he knew that Aziraphale would not mock or hurt him. It was a realisation he had had after the first time the angel had seen his wings but he had only now allowed himself to actually acknowledge it, allowed himself only now to give that ground. It took a lot to admit that even in his own head, but it did not make him panic like it once would have.

A small tap on his shoulder, the third one so far, interrupted the demon’s thoughts. He turned to see Aziraphale smile at him, a look of pride on his face.

“I’m finished, love,” said the angel. “I hope I haven’t missed any spots. Assuming I haven’t, your wings should be fully healed and functional again.”

Crowley’s mouth opened, then closed again, the implications of Aziraphale using his Grace on him only now catching up with him. _Fully functional_. If Aziraphale was right and his wings were indeed healed, he would be able to fly again.  
He would be able to open his wings without any pain and _fly_ , something he had not done in millennia.

Without looking away from the angel, Crowley stood up and slowly stretched out his wings, the feathers rustling softly. He flapped them, once, twice, the air around him moving with his wings. It didn’t hurt. The movements did not send searing pain through Crowley’s wings, there was no sharp twinge of discomfort. His wings were _whole_ again.

A grin so broad that it almost hurt broke out over Crowley’s face. He turned his head to thank Aziraphale for what he had done, for healing him in such an important, invaluable way. But at the look on the angel’s face, the words got stuck in Crowley’s throat. Aziraphale looked positively enraptured, looking at the demon’s wings with his mouth slightly open and admiration written over his features. Crowley followed his gaze and sucked in a sharp breath.

With every small flutter of his wings, the specks and colours on them seemed to move, galaxies of colour. It had been so, so long since Crowley had last actually moved his wings for longer than a minute, even less so when they were healed, and he had forgotten how gorgeous they could look. The shine of the oil only added to the effect, his wings gleaming in a way that made the stars on them seem to sparkle. His gaze fixed on them, the demon gave another small flutter, watching the colours and stars move with his wings.

“May I touch them?”

Crowley’s head whipped around, gaze focussing on the angel. Aziraphale looked uncharacteristically shy, biting his lip. Dumbfounded, Crowley nodded, still unable to form words, and offered his left wing for the angel to touch. Although Aziraphale had had his fingers buried in Crowley’s wings just minutes ago, this time, the hesitant touch felt different. More intimate, more meaningful, maybe.

Aziraphale withdrew his hand after only a few seconds of softly stroking one feather and without knowing why, Crowley felt relieved.  
It was almost too much, the feelings of having his wings work again and look so _beautiful_ was threatening to overwhelm him. The demon tucked his wings in again quickly not wanting to break down in front of Aziraphale. The feathers rustled in the air before they disappeared. Opposite to him, Aziraphale mirrored Crowley's action, the angel’s equally beautiful, pristine white wings vanishing as well.

“ _Thank you_ , Aziraphale,” said Crowley, voice steadier than he had thought it would be. He still felt slightly overwhelmed, and judging from the looks of it, so did the angel. “Thank you,” repeated the demon, “for doing this for me. I- I cannot express my gratitude enough. If there’s anything, anything at all, I can do to repay you please tell me. Because...” Crowley trailed off, his words failing him.

Luckily, Aziraphale did not seem to mind. He merely smiled at Crowley, having composed himself.

“It was my pleasure. Thank you too, my dear. You did a marvellous job and... it’s been a long time since someone cared that well for my wings and I wanted to thank you for that. You don’t have to repay me. I feel like what you did today is more than enough, love.”

Aziraphale was still smiling but his voice was firm and Crowley did not dare argue with him. The high he had had was slowly disappearing again, leaving him slightly worn out but nonetheless happy.

He gave Aziraphale another smile before picking up the oil from the coffee table and putting it back in the drawer where it belonged. For some reason, Aziraphale looked slightly disappointed almost, when Crowley turned around but the look vanished as soon as the angel noticed that Crowley was looking at him. Instead, a small smile appeared on the angel’s face.

“Would you maybe like to unpack the planetary system I gave you yesterday, love? I feel like it could help with the memories of the stars.”

Crowley nodded, somewhat surprised, both by Aziraphale's question and the fact that up until right now, he had not thought of his stars. He had not even _noticed_ the dull ache in his chest that came whenever he was thinking of his creations, too occupied with the happiness that had come from seeing his healed wings. But now, as Aziraphale had mentioned it, he could feel the familiar sensation of loss again. The thought of the planetary system however, made his heart swell.

Crowley was already halfway to his room when he realised that his Master was not following him. He turned quickly, afraid of somehow having misinterpreted Aziraphale’s offer. Had the angel not meant for him to unpack the gift now? Had Crowley misunderstood, had he angered his Master somehow?

But no, Aziraphale was smiling, even though he had not moved an inch.

“I was thinking that maybe you should unpack it on your own. After all, the stars are yours, not mine, and you should have the opportunity to enjoy the gift alone. If you want me to come with you, however...?”

Aziraphale trailed off, one eyebrow raised and Crowley tried to decipher what his Master wanted him to do. It had seemed like a prompt to unpack the gift alone and thinking about it, the idea was not unappealing. And the angel had not appeared to be angry at the prospect of Crowley enjoying the planetary system on his own, so maybe he really was allowed to unpack it on his own?

The demon carefully shook his head, watching his Master carefully, hoping that it would not upset Aziraphale. The angel, however, merely smiled at him and hummed.

“Perfect, my dear. I will go and prepare some tea and tidy up a little. If you need me, just call. And Crowley?” Aziraphale looked intently at the demon. “Enjoy the gift. You deserve it. And thank you again for the wing grooming. It means much more to me than you may think."

Crowley could do little else but nod, watching with a astonished look as Aziraphale turned around and made his way to the kitchen, humming softly. Only after the angel had disappeared from Crowley’s sight, did the demon resume his walk to his room.

He had a planetary system to build.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since it's Christmas-time I'll have a lot more time to write and I hope that I'll have the next chapter ready relatively soon (for my standards). It will be on the shorter side but over the course of the next chapters we're preparing for something special. ^^  
> Also, I've finally got a concrete idea as to what the ending should look like so yay! 
> 
> I really hope you enjoyed this chapter even if it had somewhat little actual plot and focussed more on comfort. :)  
> Happy Holidays!


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so the past three weeks have been an absolute clusterfuck. I'm sorry for not getting this chapter out sooner but I hit a mental low two weeks ago and that took a while to come out of. But the chapter is here now and though it is comparatively short, there's a lot of character development going on. I hope you like it!
> 
> Thank all of you so, so much for your continuous support and love. It sounds terribly cheesy but your comments really have helped me in the last few weeks and I adore and cherish every single one. Thank you!!! <3
> 
> Have fun!!

Apparently, children’s toys were a lot harder to assemble than one would think.

Crowley had been sitting in front of the pile that would eventually become his planetary system for quarter of an hour, trying (and failing) to piece the individual parts together.

It had not worked and Crowley had been close to giving up or asking his Master for help, when he had noticed the small sheet of instructions. It had been half-covered by the packaging of the planetary system and apparently he had overlooked it when opening the box, too excited to properly pay attention.

Crowley grabbed the sheet of paper quickly, crumpling it slightly in the process. The writing was tiny and Crowley’s eyes hurt just from looking at it, but he started reading nevertheless, working his way through every single word.

It was a painstakingly slow process, with Crowley having to stop every few words to give his eyes a small break. Normally, he never would have read that much – especially not in such a small font – in so little time, but he could feel the excitement coursing through his body, prickling underneath his fingertips and he wanted to be done with the instructions as quickly as possible. The sooner he had finished the sooner he could actually start with assembling the planetary system. A few of the longer, more complicated words made him stumble and he had to read them aloud until he understood just what they meant, but other than that, the reading-process was much, much quicker than Crowley had dared to hope.

Maybe things got easier when one genuinely enjoyed doing them, he thought. Because he definitely _had_ enjoyed reading the instructions, had enjoyed figuring what certain, unknown words meant, had enjoyed learning. And most of all, he had enjoyed the knowledge that as soon as he was finished, he would be allowed to finally, _finally_ assemble his planetary system.

With one last quick glance at the instructions, the demon grabbed the first few parts of the mobile. According to the pictures, the individual planets would be hanging on strings from a small wooden pillar of once he had assembled the toy.  
Humming softly, Crowley went to work.

It was easier than it had seemed at first glance and Crowley found himself absolutely enjoying the process of putting the mobile together. He had never had the chance to work much with his hands, and like the cooking, it was a new but thoroughly enjoyable experience.

Assembling the individual pieces was easy enough and before long, Crowley had the base for his planetary system. Now, however, came the slightly trickier step - tying the small planets and stars to strings. It was a fussy job, much more difficult than the previous one, because he had to concentrate on tying tiny knots, but still, Crowley enjoyed it. It gave him something to focus on and the monotony of it was somewhat soothing.

He was done quickly enough, even though it required much more concentration than Crowley was used to. Still, he finished after another ten minutes, his hands hurting from all the tiny knots, and the last thing left to do for him was tying the stars and planets to the pillar. To his surprise, his hands were shaking when he tried to fasten the first star to the small hook it was supposed to hang from.  
With a frown, Crowley put it to the ground, taking a few deep breaths. He had no reason to be nervous, and yet, he felt his hands tremble, beginning to sweat.

Crowley took a moment to compose himself, closing his eyes.  
He was alone, he was in his room and no one was out to get him. Aziraphale had given him the planetary system as a _gift_ and nothing indicated that the angel would take it away from him. From what Crowley had learned so far, Aziraphale enjoyed doing him favours, and he had explicitly said that the planetary system belonged to _him_ , Crowley.

With that thought in mind, that small silver linig, the demon took another deep breath and picked up the plastic star again. With careful movements, he tied the thin string to the pillar, hanging the first star. Much like he had done with the universe, all those years ago.  
It should have looked laughable, a single string with a small star dangling from a pillar next to some plastic planets but somehow, it did not. For a moment, Crowley could do nothing but stare at it, a fluttering sensation in his stomach. Then, he picked up the next star, tying it to the pillar, then another planet, another one, another one.

Before he knew it, Crowley was finished, the planetary system standing in front of him in all its glory. It was about as tall as his outstretched arm would be long, with all the planets and a multitude of stars hanging from it, twinkling a little in the sunlight that shone through the window.

Carefully, the demon placed it on the nightstand right next to his bed. That way, he would always be able to see it, whenever he woke up and went to sleep - his own creations miniature-sized right next to him.  
The planetary system fit well into his room, Crowley thought. It made it a bit homelier, a bit cozier. He took a step back, slowly spinning a circle in his room. There was the desk in front of the big, open window, with his plant on it, lovely and green. (Crowley checked every day to see how it was holding up - so far, it had been behaving.) Then a small bookcase, still half-full with Aziraphale's book, next to a closet, void of clothes. There was his bed, his own bed, neatly made and so much bigger than he had dared to imagine even in his wildest dreams. And then there was the night stand, previously empty and now with the planetary system standing on it.

Crowley smiled. His room. _His room_. It was so, so much more than he had ever dared dreaming of, his own space, like a small sanctuary.  
A sanctuary, he now wanted to leave, however.  
For reasons he couldn't even quite explain to himself, Crowley had the desire to ho downstairs, to tell Aziraphale about the planetary system. He wanted to tell the angel that he had put it together, that he had assembled it all by himself. It felt like an accomplishment, no matter how small.

With a slight smile on his lips, Crowley opened the door, throwing one last glance at the toy, at his stars and planets which were, for the first time in millennia, actually _his_ again.

\---

Downstairs, Aziraphale was enjoying his third cup of tea. Almost an hour had passed since Crowley had gone up to build the planetary system and the angel could only hope he liked it. It had been the reason he had originally gone out to buy gifts for Crowley. The demon's story of his stars and the sad, forlorn look he had had after Aziraphale had groomed his wings for the first time had made the angel want to give him something that would make him happy. And what better than a planetary system, a replica of the creations Crowley was so obviously proud of?

Of course, seeing Crowley's joy at the other gifts had also been lovely but his response to the planetary system had made Aziraphale's heart swell. He was glad he had made Crowley so happy with his gift, even if it was just a small one. Maybe one day, he could take him to a planetarium...

The creaking of the floorboards behind him made Aziraphale turn around, losing his train of thought. There was Crowley standing in the doorway, wringing his hands a little, but not looking nervous, which Aziraphale always counted as a win. No, Crowley looked almost... happy? Expectant, definitely. But there was another emotion, a stronger one, one Aziraphale could best describe as happiness. It wasn't one he saw often on the demon's face but it did make him smile. A lot.

"Are you finished, love? Or do you need my help?"

Smiling shyly, Crowley shook his head.

"I'm finished, angel. It... it looks beautiful. I just wanted to tell you that I was done and wanted to ask if you'd maybe want to, to come up and see it."

Crowley ducked his head, hiding his face. Aziraphale smiled and got up, walking over to him.  
"I'd be honoured to see your planetary system, Crowley. And I'm really proud of you for finishing it. I hope you had fun doing so?"

The demon nodded quickly, with much more force than usually.

"I did, angel, and I cannot thank you enough for it. Thank you for being so kind to me - it's so much more than I deserve."

Gently, Aziraphale put a hand in Crowley's shoulder, making the demon, who had been looking at the floor while talking, look up.

"You deserve so much more than I or anyone else can give you, Crowley. I am happy to hear that you enjoy the planetary system so much, but be assured that it isn't even approaching what you deserve. I hope that one day, you will see that too - and I hope that you will be able to give yourself whatever you need. Because," and at that Aziraphale's smile turned slightly wistful, "we can't always rely on others to make us happy. Sometimes, the effort has to come from us."

The angel took a small step back, letting his hand drop. Crowley looked confused, a bit taken aback, but not in a bad way. Aziraphale shook his head slightly, smiling.

"As I said, love, you deserve so much more than you think. Amd I'm beyond honoured that you'd show me your planetary system."

That seemed to shake Crowley out of his stupor and he stood a little straighter, meeting Aziraphale's eyes carefully.

"Thank you. Would you... I would go to my room now so please just... please follow me."

With that, he turned around, and led the way, Aziraphale just behind him.

\---

It was only the fourth time Aziraphale had been in Crowley's room and the demon couldn't help but tense up a little as the angel entered the room; an automatic reaction to someone invading his space.

Almost instantly however, he forced himself to relax again. Aziraphale wasn't here to do any harm and Crowley had invited him into his room willingly. Everything was alright, he was alright and he was safe.

Crowley stepped aside to allow Aziraphale a better look at his planetary system. Contrary to what Crowley had expected, the angel did not immediately walk over to the it but simply admired it from afar with a smile on his lips.  
Crowley frowned. From the way the angel was holding himself, it seemed almost as if he was hesitant to come closer.

Crowley cleared his throat awkwardly.  
"Do you... Do you want to come closer?"

It felt wrong, asking the angel, it felt so _presumptuous_ , but when Aziraphale turned around, he was smiling.

"If I may, yes. But it is yours, and I'm also completely content with just looking at it from here, love."

Crowley swallowed. That was not what he had been expecting and he was unsure how to deal with it. He did not mind allowing Aziraphale to walk up to the planetary system, but alone the thought of _him_ being the one to allow someone else to do something, felt wrong.  
But the angel was still just looking patiently at him, posture relaxed and arms hanging by his side and Crowley felt the overwhelming urge to nod.

After all, he wanted the angel to see his planetary system in detail, wanted to show him what he had done. Therefore, he nodded, slowly at first, then with more determination.  
Aziraphale accepted it by beaming at him. The angel made his way over to the planetary system carefully, as if he were aware of every step he took. Crowley watched him closely but the angel simply stopped short before the planetary system, slightly tilting his head. He didn’t touch the system, didn’t break it, didn’t laugh at Crowley. No, he simply stood there, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

"It really is beautiful, my dear. You did a marvellous job. Especially with the planets - I doubt I would have had the patience to tie all these tiny planets to even tinier strings." Aziraphale grinned. "I'm really happy you like it, love. And I hope I wasn't too forward with this gift."

Crowley quickly shook his head, twisting his hands in front of him. “Not at all, angel. I am- I don’t think I can ever show you how thankful I am and how much this means to me.” Crowley seemed to hesitate a moment, Aziraphale noticed, before he quickly stepped forward. Before the angel had even registered the movement, Crowley had already brought his hand up, gently touching Aziraphale's wrist.

It was one of the first touches the demon had ever initiated aside from the hug he had given Aziraphale when he had received the planetary system and Aziraphale felt his hand tingle at the brief contact. Crowley looked away, his cheeks burning, but he did not seem as if he regretted his choice.

“Thank you, my dear boy.”

Aziraphale’s voice was quiet, but the smile in it was evident. He turned towards the toy once more, afraid of accidentally saying something unforgivably stupid if he continued to stare at Crowley any longer, and hummed softly.

“You know, Crowley, while the planetary system is undoubtedly beautiful, I do think that I could do something to improve it. Only if you’d want me to, of course,” he added swiftly, “and if not, that is fine as well. It is lovely as it is – I simply had an idea on how to make it a bit more realistic, maybe.”

Looking back at the demon, Aziraphale was met with a confused look. Crowley was worrying his bottom lip slightly, his eyebrows drawn together. He had pulled back a little, but that was what Aziraphale had expected. After all, he had been very cryptic, hadn’t he?

 "I meant that if you'd like me to, I could use some of my magic to make it move. Make it a bit more realistic, more life-like, I suppose. Only if you would want me to, of course."

Crowley looked a bit taken aback, Aziraphale thought. Maybe he had accidentally offended the demon?

"Of course I do not want to transform the planetary system into something you don't want, love," Aziraphale hurried to say. "And I also don't want to give you the impression that you cannot do whatever you want with it. I promise I'm not trying to lay claim to it by-"

"It's fine," Crowley interrupted quietly, "I did not think you were. I, uh, I actually..." he took a deep breath, closing his eyes for just a moment, "I would be... honoured if you did. I mean it would be- it would be _everything_ , angel. But please don't, if it's too much effort. You don't, you don't have to - the planetary system is so much more than I had ever hoped I would own. It's not..." Crowley looked beseechingly at Aziraphale.  
"You don't _need_ to, angel."

Crowley looked... lost. Aziraphale had never seen that much hope, that much desire in his eyes, not even when he had given him the begonia, but at the same time the fear in the demon's expression was heartbrakingly clear.  
He looked torn between wanting and being afraid of having and Aziraphale would do anything to make sure the demon knew he didn't have to fear kindness.

"I want to, love. But only if you also want me to. I wouldn't have offered this to you if I wasn't prepared to actually do it, dear boy, but it's up to you. It's your decision, Crowley."

The demon nodded, hands forming loose fists by his side. His whole body language had changed, noted Aziraphale. He was leaning forward slightly, posture open and unprotected, so different from the closed-off posture to make himself appear smaller, which the angel had come to expect from him.

"I would be honoured, angel," Crowley repeated, voice trembling ever so slightly, "I would be honoured. Would I, would I have to be present while you..."

Crowley trailed off, biting his lip and Aziraphale felt a pang go through him. _Of course._ He had forgotten entirely what the demon had told him just days ago - that he couldn't perform miracles anymore and that someone else performing miracles in his vicinity frightened him.

"Of course not, my love." Aziraphale had lowered his voice, trying to sound as calming and reassuring as possible, even though his thoughts were an ugly mess of shame at forgetting Crowley's terror of miracles and anger at whoever had done this to the demon.

"Of course not. I would never ask that of you, and it is not necessary for the process. _If_ you wanted to join, you're more than welcome to - I could show you that the miracle won't harm you or you could stay to make sure I don't do anything you don't want me to. But if you don't, that's also completely fine, love. Just tell me what exactly I should or shouldn't do and I'll try my best to act accordingly."

To Aziraphale's surprise, Crowley was shaking his head quickly, almost with a tinge of panic.

"No," he said, the word coming out short and jerky, "no, I can't, I can't give you... I can't give you orders, that's, that's not..."

The demon swallowed thickly, his eyes firmly fixed on Aziraphale. His mouth was still hanging slightly open as if the words he wanted to say were simply stuck in his throat, unwilling to come out. He looked beseechingly at Aziraphale, wetting his lips with the tip of his tongue. Aziraphale was quick to reassure him – anything to make this hopeless, reluctant look disappear from Crowley’s face.

"You wouldn't be giving me orders, dear. You would simply be telling me what you'd prefer me to do and what I rather shouldn't change. Or, if you also don't want that, I could modify the planetary system first and then show it to you, and then you can tell me what you do and do not like about it."

Crowley looked torn. He had taken another step forward, but the tension he felt was still painfully obvious in his posture. Still, he shook his head - slowly this time.

"I would... I would prefer watching while you, uh, make it move. Master. Sorry, I- _Angel._ I want to stay with you during the miracle, angel. Please."

Aziraphale nodded. He was a more than a little worried that the use of his powers while Crowley was in the room would terrify the demon just like winning at UNO had, but at the same time, he respected Crowley's wish. Although afraid, Crowley did seem sure of his answer and Aziraphale did not want to decide what was best for him. Not when Crowley had just made a decision himself and had dared telling it to Aziraphale. It was something to be respected and cherished after all, Crowley making decisions.

"Of course, dear boy. Thank you for making that decision and thank you for thinking about it first, my love. If at any point what I do frightens you or makes you uncomfortable in the slightest, you have to tell me." Aziraphale's voice was firmer than just seconds ago and he made sure Crowley looked at him before continuing. "Promise me, Crowley. If I do anything at all that scares you, you must tell me. I don't want you to be afraid and especially not of me."

Crowley nodded, his eyes fixed on Aziraphale. The angel smiled gently, letting his voice become soft once again.

"Would you like me to do it now? Whenever you want is fine by me, darling."

Crowley cleared his throat, his eyes leaving Aziraphale's and focussing on the planetary system on his nightstand.

"Yes," he said, voice almost inaudible. "Now is fine."

Aziraphale almost smiled. Slowly, he made his way over to the planetary system, painfully aware of how Crowley was tracking his every step. Normally, he would have taken off his jacket or unbuttoned the buttons on the arms of his shirt to get a bit more comfortable for the miracle, but he was sure that shedding even his jacket would result in a terrified Crowley behind him.

Therefore, Aziraphale merely put the planetary system on the floor carefully, allowing himself for a more comfortable position sitting down cross-legged next to it.  
He was aware of Crowley's eyes on him, watching intently and made sure to angle his body in a way that would allow the demon to see every move he made clearly.

\--

Crowley had taken two steps back as soon as Aziraphale had picked up the planetary system and was now quite a bit closer to the wall. He could feel his heart racing in his chest, testimony of his nervousness at the prospect of Aziraphale using his powers.

While Crowley's last time of being punished by the use of another immortal being's powers had been a long time ago, he could still recall the pain and terror he had felt, the sheer _wrongness_ of it. Luckily, Gabriel had not usually punished him by using his powers but the underlying current of fear of it had still never quite vanished.

Logically, Crowley was aware that Aziraphale would not hurt him with this miracle, he was aware that he _himself_ had agreed to the angel's offer, but that knowledge did only very little against the rush of fear that went through Crowley as Aziraphale readied himself for his miracle.  
At least, the angel sat in such a way that Crowley could see his hands clearly. A small comfort - but comfort nevertheless.

"I'll use as little of my power as possible, love. It shouldn't take much anyway, and I'll tell you before I do anything at all, I promise, love. Is that alright for you?”

Aziraphale looked so _honest_ that Crowley couldn’t do anything but nod. He felt as if he were pinned to the wall by the angel’s eyes, so open and sincere, as if he desperately wanted Crowley to trust him. He did, Crowley realised with a start, for reasons that were entirely unclear to him, Aziraphale really _did_ care about Crowley trusting him.

Slowly, the angel lifted a hand, touching the axis of Crowley’s planetary system carefully. He spoke without looking up at Crowley, gaze still on the planetary system.

“I’ll use my grace now, love. It’s so little that I doubt you will even be able to feel it. I’ll use just enough for the planetary system to move on its own, yes?”

Aziraphale looked up; waiting for confirmation and Crowley gave a small nod. He couldn’t help but tense up when Aziraphale’s fingers gently touched the axis once more, waiting for the inevitable pain that always came whenever someone used their powers around him. He braced himself, eyes fixed on Aziraphale’s hand, waiting for it to reach towards him, hurt him, _burn_ him-

The planetary system began moving, slowly at first, then a little quicker. Aziraphale drew his hand back, resting it in his lap. Crowley stared. It was over, already, almost as soon as it had started. There had been no pain, no torture, not even the prickle of sparks running down his spine Crowley usually felt when a Master used their grace. Nothing. Just his planetary system moving slowly, beautifully. The stars _shone_ , Crowley realised. They were sparkling, twinkling, _his_ stars.

“Ah, yes, I’m sorry about that,” Crowley heard Aziraphale’s voice, “that wasn’t planned. I just thought that maybe, the sparkling, I suppose, would make for a nice touch. If you’d rather I remove it, I will do so of course.”

The angel made to reach for the planetary system, clearly intending to undo the sheer _magic_ of his miracle and Crowley took a jerky step forward. Aziraphale stopped, his hand hovering centimetres away from the planetary system.

“It’s fine,” said Crowley. His voice was rough and scratchy, entirely inappropriate to address a Master with, but for once, he found he did not care as much as he probably should. “It’s fine, angel. It’s perfect.”

The demon took another step forward, slower this time, and another and another. Out of the corner of his eye, Crowley saw Aziraphale shift a little, making space for him. With one fluid movement, Crowley kneeled down before the planetary system, admiring it from up close. It was _gorgeous_. The planets moved slowly, just like they were supposed to and his stars twinkled a little – not quite what they were supposed to do but Crowley found he did not mind one bit.

It was beautiful, Crowley though. Beautiful and perfect and all _his_. He looked up only to find Aziraphale staring at him, eyes soft and gentle.

Crowley opened his mouth but no words came out. How could he ever even begin to convey how thankful he was for Aziraphale’s gift? Silently, Crowley watched as a small, slow smile spread over the angel’s face.

“You’re welcome, love,” he said gently, quietly. “You’re welcome.”

The demon nodded and swallowed. He so desperately wanted to show Aziraphale how incredibly thankful he was, show him how much this meant to him. He wanted to hug the angel and never let him go but he could not move an inch. He wanted to squeeze the angel’s hand, do anything at all to show how incredibly much this meant to him but the thought of touch alone made Crowley feel nauseous for reasons he himself didn’t understand.

Therefore, he just sat there, looking at the angel for a few more seconds, unable to do or say anything at all. Then, in a slow and careful whisper: “Thank you, Aziraphale. Thank you.”

He watched as another smile spread over the angel’s face, lighting it up from within.

“Of course, darling. I’m happy you like it so much.”

With those words, the angel stood up, groaning a little at the movement. He looked down at Crowley, who was still sitting next to the planetary system, his eyes gentle.

“I would go back downstairs now, love. If you want to join me, feel free, but it is just as fine if you’d like to stay up here a little longer and join me whenever you feel like it. I’m fine with either option.”

Crowley bit his lip, his eyes wandering between Aziraphale’s face and the planetary system. He had already taken so much from the angel today, had already tested his limits so often. It would be foolish to stay up here, to indulge in what was so newly his. After all, the planetary system would still be there when he came back. It would still be his, standing on his nightstand, moving slowly, beautifully.

Therefore, Crowley shook his head and pushed himself off the floor, standing next to Aziraphale.

“I’ll come with you, if that’s alright with you, angel.”

Aziraphale nodded, a small smile playing around his lips and he put his hands into his pockets, making his way towards he door. Crowley followed suit, walking just behind him, turning off the lights as he left the room. With one last look at the planetary system still turning inside his room, the demon quietly shut the door and followed Aziraphale downstairs, smiling all the while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (For all of you who want to see Crowley hurt some more - I'm afraid the Major angst in this story is almost over. There's an... event still waiting to happen in the future for our lovely demon (it's not all that bad, I promise) but I meant it when I said that we're on the pothole-y road of recovery.  
> But worry not! If you really just want some more Crowley angst and hurt/comfort, I've got a whole new story planned out :) I'll finish this one first, obviously, but this is not the only angsty (lenghty) Good Omens story I've got :))  
> Have a nice day! I really do hope you liked the chapter!!!


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m really sorry it took me so long!  hope you’re all well and healthy. This chapter is LONG, the second-longest I think. During writing, I could not find a point at which I could end it satisfactorily, which is why this is so long. I hope you don’t mind :)
> 
> This chapter is a bit of a rollercoaster, emotionally speaking, but I had to address a few things, since right now, Crowley is making so much progress, and it isn’t all that easy for him.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!!

The living room was illuminated by one single lamp, bathing it in warm orange light. One of the armchairs had a blanket thrown over it and a cup of still-hot tea was standing on the coffee table next to a heavy, leather-bound book – signs that Aziraphale had been reading until Crowley had come downstairs to show him the planetary system.

To Crowley’s surprise, however, Aziraphale did not return to his book as soon as they had entered the living room, but rather stopped in front of one of the many bookshelves, looking at it with a slight frown, as if trying to stare it into submission. After a few short seconds, the angel retrieved another heavy, leather-bound book from the shelves and turned around, facing Crowley.

The angel was standing a little awkwardly in the middle of the living room, book tucked under one arm. He cleared his throat softly, eyes now locked on Crowley.

“Would you like me to read a little to you, maybe?”

Crowley was a bit taken aback, needing a second to find his words again before answering. The angel’s question had come as a surprise, although not an unpleasant one, but it was still a little weird to him to just... be _asked_ things. Being actually able to answer those questions, with his answers being taken seriously, was also something he still had to get used to.

Crowley nodded, saying ‘yes’ almost too quickly. He felt surprisingly eager to be read to again – his eyes were still hurting a little from the planetary system’s instructions and the last time, he had enjoyed the relaxation that had come with Aziraphale reading to him out loud. It was a pleasant memory; one Crowley was happy to revisit.

Aziraphale smiled gently at him, sitting down in one of the armchairs and indicating that the demon should take the other. The book in Aziraphale’s hands was unfamiliar to Crowley – he had not seen the angel read it previously nor was it the collection of greek myths Crowley had dared reading a few days ago on his own.

“It’s a poetry collection,” explained Aziraphale, already flipping through the pages. “Wile I usually prefer to read novels, there are poems from so many, so different authors that even I have found some that I enjoy tremendously. They can be much better at evoking emotion than any other form of literature, and I can find a lot of comfort in them. I’d like to see if we can also find something for you, dear boy, since I feel you might like one or two of the poems in here. But if you don’t want to, just say so. I won’t be offended if you’d rather I read something else.”

He looked expectantly at Crowley, who nodded, curling up in his chair. He couldn’t remember ever having read a poem himself, much less having one be read _to_ him and he wasn’t quite sure what to expect.

As it turned out, poems were fundamentally different from everything Crowley had read or been read to so far.  
They were much shorter, for one, but there was also a comforting heaviness that came with them and settled around him like a blanket, something he had never experienced with the stories Aziraphale had read to him so far.  
He was not used to listen to someone reading, especially not for that long, and he was grateful for the fact that although a few of the poems were complicated, most of them were at least short enough that listening to them didn't exert him too much.

The angel's voice was low and soft and Crowley felt his mind drift as he listened to him, the words settling in his mind slowly. After a while, Crowley's eyes slipped closed, too comfortable was his position in the chair and the general warmth in the room, too relaxing Aziraphale's voice.

For a while, Crowley simply stayed in that state of mind, only half-aware of everything surrounding him, mind detached and solely focussing on the sound of Aziraphale's voice, the content of his words.  
The angel read poem after poem, the words settling over Crowley and leaving him exhausted from listening but happy, as if he had been washed to the shore after swimming in the sea at night.

Crowley's pleasant haze was interrupted when Aziraphale softly cleared his throat, closing the book. He yawned, set the book down on the coffee table and stretched a little. When the angel looked up again, he was smiling, a soft look on his face.

"And, my love? Did you like the poems?"

When Crowley nodded, the smile on the angel's face broadened, his eyes lighting up.

"I'm happy to hear that, my dear boy. There is one more poem I think you might enjoy - if you're willing to listen to me for a bit longer, that is."

Aziraphale's voice was light and carefree. He sounded happy, Crowley realised. Happy just because he had been reading to Crowley? It did not seem quite correct, like Crowley was missing a step, couldn't quite grasp what had made the angel so happy, but it didn't matter.  
Point was, Aziraphale was happy, just like Crowley himself was. Because of a few poems, because of a few poems the angel had specifically chosen just for him.

Aziraphale was still looking at him, Crowley realised, waiting for an answer. He nodded, trying to convey the enthusiasm he felt. He tried a small smile – still a somewhat foreign feeling for him, but it seemed to be working as Aziraphale responded with a blinding smile on his own.

Aziraphale opened the book again, choosing a poem near the end.

"This one is called _The Old Astronomer to His Pupil_ by Sarah Williams. I think you might like it - especially the ending. I had to think of the poem just a few days ago, actually."

Crowley nodded again, shuffling a little in his seat. He was inexplicably excited, the mere knowledge that Aziraphale had chosen a poem specifically for him was enough to make him feel good.

The demon closed his eyes as Aziraphale started reading, fully immersing himself in the poem. It was beautiful, Crowley thought, full of emotion and care. The words the author had chosen, the structures she had used, were unfamiliar to Crowley, but they enriched the experience. They made the poem what is was, thought Crowley absent-mindedly, they made it unique and so pleasant to listen to.  
The angel's voice was soft in the room as he red, calming Crowley, grounding him.  
Near the end of the poem, Aziraphale's voice lowered, drawing the demon's attention.

_"Though my soul may set in darkness, it will rise in perfect light;_  
_I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night."_

The words were beautiful, doubtlessly, but upon hearing them, Crowley felt as if the air had been sucked out of his lungs. He felt terribly overwhelmed for a second, as if the world had suddenly become too much, too heavy. But it wasn't a negative feeling, no, it was freeing somehow, if frightening in its novelty.

Aziraphale kept reading, finishing the poem, but Crowley only half-listened, replaying the line the angel has just emphasised over and over again in his head. It was beautiful, it expressed Crowley’s emotions in a way he himself could never have hoped to even come close to.

When Aziraphale closed the book, Crowley opened his eyes again, the line about the stars still stuck in his mind. He was looking straight at Aziraphale, who was watching him closely, an unidentifiable emotion on his face.  
The demon opened his mouth, trying to say something, anything at all, but no words would come out. He simply started at Aziraphale, his throat tight, and a quivering smile on his lips.

"Did you like it?"

The angel seemed anxious to know the answer, his hands restlessly smoothing out his shirt.

"Yes," managed Crowley, "I liked it. I loved it, angel. It was... it was incredible. Thank you. Thank you so, _so_ much."

His voice was trembling slightly, too overcome with emotion, but he was smiling, as broadly as he hadn't in hundreds of years.  
Aziraphale was smiling too, a relieved grin, his eyes sparkling.

"I'm glad you liked it. I thought that especially the ending would maybe appeal to you, since I, well, talks about your stars and is so simple yet so beautiful."

He cleared his throat, awkwardly, closing the book. "Would you maybe, ah, would you maybe like to turn this into something regular? Only if you want, of course, but I quite enjoyed it and it seemed that you did, too."

"I'd like that very much, angel," responded Crowley quietly. "Especially the last poem. It truly was beautiful."

Aziraphale nodded, a relieved smile on his lip. He put the poetry collection down on the coffee table, next to another book and stood up, stretching a bit.

"I’m happy to hear that, love. It also is one of my favourite poems and I remembered it when I last groomed your wings. I thought you might enjoy it and I’m happy to see that apparently, I was correct in my assumption.” Aziraphale’s smile broadened into a grin at the last words, and he threw a quick glance at the clock ticking on the wall.

“Well, I'm feeling a little peckish, I must say. Would you want to join me in the kitchen?"

Crowley nodded eagerly, standing up. He'd been waiting for an opportunity to test out his cooking skills, repay Aziraphale for all his kindness and do something to make the angel happy. This would be the perfect opportunity, he realised, if only he could convince Aziraphale to let him cook for him.

"Uhm," started Crowley rather unintelligently, "I'd like to, if you'd allow me, of course, to maybe- I mean, if it would be alright with you, I'd like to cook for you. To say, to say thank you, I guess. And also," he added hastily, upon seeing Aziraphale's smile diminish, "to test out some new recipes from my, from my cookbook."

Aziraphale's seemed disappointed, or sad almost, Crowley realised with a vaguely uncomfortable feeling in his gut. The relaxed, comfortable atmosphere from just seconds ago had disappeared completely, and instead, a stiff, tense feeling had taken over the room.

"You don't need to do that," came Aziraphale's voice, now short and stiff, "you don't have to repay me. I wanted to read the poems to you, and I don't need you to thank me by... servicing me. A simple thank-you will be enough. You don't owe me."

The words made Crowley think of his first evening with the angel, back when Aziraphale had been an unknown variable and had refused to do as much as touch him. Back then, Aziraphale had seemed angry and shocked at Crowley’s offer to repay him for the meal he had made, but now, he sounded more sad than anything else.

Crowley couldn't figure out what he had done wrong. Should he not have offered? Did Aziraphale not want him to cook?  
The demon felt an inexplicable pang of hurt go through him at the thought, so quickly he almost missed it. This was not how he had imagined Aziraphale’s reaction to look like, not at all. He swallowed hard, averting his gaze to the floor.

"It," he started, voice quiet and stomach filled with nervousness - he was daring to talk back to the angel, was daring to contradict what Aziraphale had said - "it would not be because I owe you. I want to, angel. Not because I feel I owe you for the poems but because I... I want to make you happy. Please. If you'd- If you'd let me, I _want_ to cook for you. I do."

Aziraphale was frowning, looking taken aback. For a few seconds he simply stared at Crowley. Then, he nodded slowly, his face falling.

"Alright, my dear. Thank you for telling me,” he started weakly, but caught himself quickly. “I'd love if you'd cook for me, if you really want it, and I'm sorry I made something out of it that it wasn't. I shouldn't have assumed." He gave a small, weak smile and touched Crowley's shoulder briefly. "I'm sorry if I destroyed the mood, I should not have reacted the way I did. I’m sorry."

The words were formal but sincere and Crowley could do little but nod, too surprised to immediately formulate an answer. He did not know what to do, quite frankly - had never, _never_ had someone apologise to him and he did not know how else to react but nod. He... he appreciated Aziraphale's apology, he thought, he was grateful, maybe, but there still was the weirdly hurt, raw feeling in his stomach, making him feel slightly nauseous.

"Do you, do you have any wishes? For dinner, I mean?"

Aziraphale shook his head, an embarrassed smile on his lips

"No thank you, my dear boy. Please do cook whatever you want. Would you rather I help you or do you want to do it alone?"

Crowley bit his lip, shaking his head slowly, carefully. He still wasn’t feeling quite right, as if he had been left reeling, but he had been given the choice and right now, he would rather be alone and deal with his feelings in silence and on his own, than having to explain something he himself did not even understand to Aziraphale. Therefore, he dared declining even at the risk of upsetting the angel further, choosing his words carefully to possibly minimise any punishment that they could earn him.

“I’d rather do it alone, if that is alright by you, angel. But if you’d like to cook with me…”

He trailed off, unsure. But Aziraphale merely nodded, smiling a little. He still did not look entirely comfortable, a careful air around him, but he said nothing of it to Crowley.

“Alright, my dear boy. If you need me for anything, please don’t hesitate to ask me. And I just wanted to tell you again that I really am sorry, Crowley.” Aziraphale’s voice had turned serious and he was making sure that he was looking Crowley directly in the eye before continuing. “I should not have assumed. It wasn’t my place to do so and I’m sorry I made you feel uncomfortable when you simply wanted to do something nice for me. I’ll try and react better in the future, love.”

Crowley nodded, to overwhelmed to say anything in response. It was the second time the angel had apologised to him within minutes and he did not know what to do. What did one say to their Master apologising to them? Luckily, Aziraphale did not seem to await a response, but merely offered Crowley another smile, this one a bit bigger than the previous ones, and then turned around, walking back to the sofa and leaving Crowley on his own.

The demon took a second to get his feelings back under control and then went in the kitchen, taking his cookbook, which he had placed on a bookshelf close to the door, with him.

He wasn’t quite sure which meal to prepare for the angel. They had had rice just a few days ago, so that one was probably, although it had been wonderful, not the best choice. Crowley decided that he would choose an easy meal to cook, since he did not want to have to ask Aziraphale for help. After all, the food was still supposed to be a gift and thank-you, no matter the unpleasant conversation they had had because of it.

Luckily, the cookbook had ranked the recipes according to the difficulty and Crowley chose one from the first, easiest section, called ‘One-Pot Tomato Basil Pasta’. Just reading the title, Crowley had no idea what to expect, but he remembered that Aziraphale had eaten and enjoyed tomatoes before, so he probably could not go wrong with that dish. And the recipe claimed that everyone loved pasta, so he figured that it would be worth a try.

Crowley put the cookbook on the table, scanning the ingredients with a frown. He knew what basil, garlic, onions and tomatoes were, seeing as Aziraphale had used all of those before, but he had never had spaghetti, nor did he know what vegetable broth was, so he hesitantly started to look around the kitchen to find the various ingredients. At first, Crowley kept to scanning the surfaces he could see, not daring to open one of the cupboards or even the fridge, but he quickly realised that the most useful things he would find that way were salt and pepper. And while those were needed, he highly doubted that he would be able to make a good meal just with those two things.

That meant that he had no other choice but to search the cupboards. Crowley felt uneasy just approaching them, as if he were somehow trespassing. He knew that Aziraphale would likely not mind if Crowley searched his cupboards, seeing as it was necessary to make their meal, but it still took a bit more will power than it probably should have for the demon to actually open one of the cupboards close to the sink.

It opened with a small squeak and Crowley found himself holding in his breath, waiting to see whether Aziraphale would come to the kitchen. But everything remained quiet and after another four seconds of waiting, Crowley breathed out and went through the cupboard in search of what he needed.

The first few cupboards contained glasses and plates; things Crowley would later need but he left them be for the time being. After the third cupboard, he discovered the spaghetti and vegetable broth and after a quick look into the fridge he also found all the vegetables he needed.

The instructions were easy enough to follow even though Crowley was still extremely careful when handling the knife, making the process of chopping the vegetables take longer than it would have taken otherwise. Preparing the food did not need much concentration and Crowley let his mind wander a little, replaying the conversation he had had with Aziraphale earlier.

The inexplicable pang of hurt went through him again when he thought about how the angel had reacted to his offer. Aziraphale’s disappointment had hurt, for reasons Crowley couldn’t even explain to himself. He had genuinely wanted to thank Aziraphale, and not just because the angel was his Master and it was what Crowley was supposed to do, but rather because he wanted to show him his appreciation, his thankfulness.

He had wanted to show the angel that he had enjoyed the poems and had wanted to repay him for what Aziraphale had given him with the poetry. He had wanted to _make the angel happy_ , Crowley realised. It was true, as startling a revelation it was, it was true – he had wanted to make Aziraphale smile, had wanted to be the one responsible for the angel’s joy.

With trembling hands, Crowley put the knife down carefully, closed his eyes and took a second to simply breathe. He could feel his heart beating faster and tried to get it back under control, not wanting to alarm Aziraphale.

He had never, _never_ wanted to make someone happy, _especially_ not a Master. Before his enslavement, he had been a demon and it was unnatural for demons to be nice, to bring others joy. He had had no reason to do so, and therefore, he hadn’t.

And then, in the thousands of years that had followed, the years spent under Beelzebub, Michael and Gabriel, the thought of doing anything at all to please them and not just to protect himself from pain as much as possible, wouldn’t even have entered his mind. Just thinking about actually, willingly doing something that would bring Gabriel joy made Crowley feel sick to his stomach.

But with Aziraphale, it was different. Everything was different with Aziraphale, he was unlike any other Master Crowley had had before. He was kind, Crowley could admit that freely now, and apparently, he was someone Crowley liked enough to want to see him happy.

Crowley took another deep breath; hit by the realisation he had just had. He _liked_ Aziraphale, liked him in a way he had never liked anyone or anything ever before. He had not even thought that it would be possible for him, caring about another being in such a way.

It was unfamiliar and frightening, but for some reason, it did not feel wrong. There was no sense of dread settling in, no fear of having emotions such as this towards the angel. Instead, the realisation had come with a strange sort of calm, a peacefulness almost, as if a missing puzzle piece had clicked into place and had made a bigger, larger picture which Crowley currently could not see, make a bit more sense.

With a slightly shaky hand, the demon flipped through the cookbook, looking for what to do next. So what if he liked Aziraphale? The angel never needed to know, and if he did not know, he would have no chance to exploit that particular weakness of Crowley’s. Crowley would simply keep quiet about his feelings until he had figured out what to do with them. He didn’t know how Aziraphale would react, didn’t know if the angel would mock Crowley for feeling something for him, a _Master_.

A voice in the back of Crowley’s mind whispered that no, Aziraphale wouldn’t mock him, wouldn’t hurt Crowley over something like feelings, especially not positive ones. Aziraphale had shown time and again that he appreciated and valued Crowley’s opinion and wouldn’t ridicule him the way many others had done before him. Crowley held on to that thought as much as he could, trying to avoid another onslaught of fear.

He shook his head resolutely, forcing himself to concentrate on his cooking. The following steps were easy enough – he simply had to combine all the ingredients in a pot and wait for the meal to be finished, while not forgetting to stir frequently. It was repetitive work but at least it took Crowley’s mind off the internal turmoil he was experiencing for a little while. They weren’t _bad_ feelings, Crowley knew that, but acknowledging that he cared for Aziraphale left him in a vulnerable position.

And Crowley had been the vulnerable one for thousands of years. He wanted, needed to not feel like everything he did and thought would cause him harm, at least for a moment.

Crowley rested his head in his hands, focussing on his breathing once more. He felt thrown, and a little as if the rug had been pulled from underneath his feet. Caring for someone, _liking_ someone was something he had never expected to feel, and he had not a clue how to react to it. Was he supposed to tell the angel about his discoveries?

The thought alone made Crowley feel uncomfortable and he quickly discarded it. Telling Aziraphale would put him in the position of vulnerability that he so desperately wanted to avoid and there was no telling how the angel would respond. The uncertainty of the angel’s reaction to Crowley’s revelation was enough to make the demon shy away from telling him. Crowley had the suspicion that Aziraphale’s response would not at all be negative, but he would still rather not risk it.

The other option, seemed much more appealing to him. He could keep quiet, he _would_ , he knew he was good at keeping quiet. And maybe, if given enough time, Crowley could figure out what to do with the emotions he had so freshly discovered.

It was the better plan by far, and Crowley would keep it at that, he decided while picking up the spoon again in order to stir the pasta. He would not tell Aziraphale about his feelings towards him until Crowley himself was sure about what those feelings meant exactly, and how they would affect his relationship with the angel.

Because maybe, Crowley thought with a supressed sigh and an uncomfortable feeling in his guts, maybe Aziraphale would be disgusted at the idea of someone as low as Crowley liking him, caring for him.

\---

While Crowley was in the kitchen cooking something that smelled absolutely delicious, Aziraphale was busying himself with cleaning up the living room. He had rearranged his books just a short while ago, so there was no need for that, but there were other things a bored angel, who was fighting very hard with his bad conscience, could do.

Whenever Aziraphale was feeling particularly nervous or unhappy for whatever reason, it soothed him to do things the human way – without miracles and as meticulously as possible. That was also the reason why he was currently smoothing out the blanket he had used earlier, before folding it and laying it on the armchair with much more care than necessary.

Focussing on the small details made it easier for Aziraphale to deal with his feelings, it always had. And at the moment, there were many feelings the angel had to dissect.

The biggest of them all being guilt.

Aziraphale felt terribly guilty and ashamed for the way he had reacted to Crowley’s offer earlier. It had been uncalled for, an absolutely terrible reaction to what he was now able to recognise had been an earnest, honest offer.

Aziraphale had thought that the demon’s offer of cooking for him had been Crowley’s way to pay Aziraphale back because he didn’t want him to think that he was lazy or maybe because Crowley was afraid that Aziraphale now assumed that he owed he angel something. Both of those options, those ideas had angered him, for they were not the way this should work. This was not how a relationship should ever work, and he had tried to tell Crowley that.

Only that he had messed up terribly while doing so. Because Aziraphale, in his frustration and assumptions, had completely misunderstood Crowley’s intentions, had seen things that had not been there and had, while trying to do what he assumed was best for Crowley, instead hurt the demon.

Aziraphale stopped for a second, taking a moment to get his feelings back under control.

He wasn’t used to feeling so _guilty_ , so bad. He wasn’t used to hurting people, since it was not usually what he as an angel tried to do – his job was to help people, to make them feel better, not _worse_ , like it had been the case with Crowley.

Aziraphale had overreacted, he could see that clearly now. Crowley hadn’t deserved Aziraphale’s unfounded outburst of emotion, not when the demon had just tied to do him a favour.

Aziraphale put the poetry book, which he had wanted to put back on its shelf, down. He had made a mistake, there was no way around it. He had already apologised to Crowley, and the demon had accepted the apology, but for some reason, it had not made Aziraphale feel any better.

Instead, he felt exhausted, and tired. Maybe he needed a break, or simply a change of scenery, something else than just his shop all day.

He didn’t usually spend that much time in his apartment, not if he could help it, and much preferred leaving is flat every once in a while, taking walks or visiting his favourite cafes. Maybe he should do just that, Aziraphale thought with a small smile already forming on his lips, maybe a change of scenery would help him collect himself a little more.

He could ask Crowley whether he wanted to join him – maybe a short walk would also be something the demon enjoyed. There were some things Aziraphale had wanted to show Crowley anyways, for a little while, things the angel thought might bring him joy.

He would ask later, Aziraphale promised himself. He would try and apologise one last time to Crowley, and then, maybe, he could ask whether leaving the flat would be something Crowley was interested in.

Aziraphale picked up the book with much more confidence and resolution than he had had just minutes ago. He had a plan and plans always made him feel a bit better.

\---

No ten minutes after Aziraphale had thought up his new plan Crowley appeared in the kitchen door, a wonderful smell following him out the kitchen.

“The food is ready now, angel, if you’d still like to eat.”

Crowley seemed a little unsure so Aziraphale gave his best to smile broadly at him, in order to show the demon his appreciation for his efforts.

“It smells heavenly,” he said while rising to his feet from where he had been sitting, “thank you so much for making it.”

Crowley ducked his head at that, avoiding Aziraphale’s eyes. He nodded once, before disappearing back into the kitchen, leaving Aziraphale to follow him in his own pace. The sight that greeted the angel when he entered the kitchen was an unexpected but definitely not unpleasant one. Crowley had set the table already, two plates of food already on it, and the entire kitchen was bathed in the warm sunlight that came from the window. It looked like Crowley had made some effort to present everything nicely and it had definitely paid off.

Aziraphale made sure to tell the demon so as he took a seat, waiting for Crowley to sit down as well. The pasta really did smell heavenly and Aziraphale felt his stomach grumble at the sight of it, only barely holding himself back from just starting to peat. He waited until Crowley had also taken his cutlery before nodding his head at the food again, ready to eat.

“Thank you a lot for making this, it means much to me. Did you enjoy the cooking?”

Crowley nodded, his fork not touching his food.

“I did, angel. I liked being able to try out a new recipe and it was easier than I thought it would be. I hope you’ll like it.”

Aziraphale smiled at that, taking the first forkful. It was clear that Crowley wouldn’t start eating until Aziraphale himself had begun, so he ate the first bite quickly, not wanting to make Crowley wait any longer.

The flavour surprised Aziraphale – he didn’t eat pasta all too often, preferring seafood and sushi – but he was pretty sure that he had never eaten pasta quite this good before. He watched as Crowley took his first, tentative bite, before telling the demon so.

“This really is delicious, my dear. I don’t think I’ve ever had pasta quite this good! How did you make it? Was it terribly complicated?”

Crowley shook his head at that, chewing quickly before answering Aziraphale’s question. In-between bites the demon walked him through the process of making the dish, Aziraphale mentally writing it down in case he wanted to make it himself sometime.

They spent the entire meal like this – an easy conversation about trivial topics, but one that Aziraphale greatly enjoyed, especially when he saw how passionate Crowley was when talking about cooking. It seemed to be something the demon liked to do, Aziraphale noticed, and it made him surprisingly happy. It was nice seeing that Crowley had discovered things he actually liked, passions he had, such as caring for he begonia or cooking, as it seemed.

They finished their meal quickly, and Aziraphale leaned back in his chair after he had taken the last bite, feeling comfortably full. Crowley made an attempt at getting up, presumably to clean the dishes, but Aziraphale held him back gently.

“I wanted to talk to you for a second, love.”

At that, the demon looked up, a small frown on his face, but he sat back down, facing Aziraphale with a curious look.

“I wanted to apologise for earlier, darling. I know that I did so already, but I thought about it a bit more while you were cooking, and I really did overreact. I’m sorry for that. I completely misunderstood your intentions and I reacted harshly based off an assumption that was entirely wrong. I didn’t mean to belittle you or to take the choice of cooking away from you. I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did because it wasn’t fair to you.”

Aziraphale paused for a second, slightly breathless after this rather long speech. Crowley was simply looking at him, an unidentifiable emotion in his eyes.

“I assumed you wanted to cook for me because you felt you had to pay me back for reading the poems to you. My reaction was unjustified and even if that had been the reason why you offered to cook, it wasn’t an appropriate reaction. You can do whatever you like for whatever reasons you want to do it, and that involves cooking.”

Aziraphale gave a small, rueful smile.

“Of course, I’d prefer it if you didn’t have that feeling of obligation towards me, but I understand that it cannot be easy to let go of that mindset. So, I’m really, deeply sorry. I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did, and I appreciate that you wanted to do something nice for me, I really do. So, thank you Crowley. It means a lot to me, it really does.”

For a second, Crowley could do nothing but stare at Aziraphale after the angel’s explanation had ended. The small frown had reappeared, though it didn’t seem as if Crowley was hurt or offended by Aziraphale’s words. After another second of waiting, Crowley nodded, his shoulders curving inwards slightly.

“Thank you, angel. I… I did not realise that that was what you had assumed I meant by that offer. I- I simply-“

Crowley broke off, a helpless look on his face. Aziraphale shook his head gently.

“You don’t need to justify yourself, darling,” he said, “I’m the one who’s to blame, I misunderstood the situation and you don’t have to explain yourself. It was an unfortunate situation and I’m sorry if I made you feel like I didn’t appreciate your offer, because I did. The food really was delicious, Crowley. I enjoyed it tremendously.”

At that, Crowley ducked his head, a faint blush spreading on his cheeks. He looked much more relaxed now, Aziraphale noticed with a warm feeling. Not as relaxed as when Aziraphale had read the poems to him, but definitely less tense than the demon had been when he had started cooking.

Aziraphale got up and took the dishes with him, carrying them to the sink. Crowley protested as the angel tried to wash the dishes himself, which eventually lead to the both of them doing the washing-up together, Aziraphale rinsing the plates and cutlery while Crowley cleaned and dried the items the angel handed him.

“You know,” said Aziraphale once they had finished, and had gone back to the living room, “I was thinking of maybe going out in the next few days, just taking a small walk through one of the parks, I think. Would you like to accompany me?”

Crowley froze for a split second. Then, he straightened in his armchair, sitting upright and watching Aziraphale intently.

“You don’t need to, of course,” added Aziraphale reassuringly, “it was just an idea I had.”

Crowley nodded, his hands forming fists in his lap. Aziraphale gave him time to think, leaning back in his own armchair a little as he waited for the demon’s response.

Crowley’s voice was quiet as he answered.

“Are there usually many people at the park?”

Aziraphale felt his heart swell at Crowley’s question. Not even a month ago the demon never would have asked a question, especially not one such as this, and Aziraphale couldn’t help but feel proud of him.

“It depends on when you are going,” Aziraphale answered, “I was thinking late evening, when there are usually very few people. But of course you don’t have to join me – it was just an idea, an offer, if you wanted to maybe leave the flat for a little while.”

Crowley nodded, biting his lips slightly. He looked stricken and Aziraphale took pity on him.

“You don’t have to tell me right away, darling. There’s no pressure and if you decide that you would rather not come with me, I can fully understand that. If you’d like to, you can also come with me another time, or simply never at all. It really is up to you.”

Crowley nodded, a bit more freely this time, and slowly his posture became a bit more relaxed again.

“Is it alright if I tell you later, angel?” he asked, voice quiet. Aziraphale nodded, a gentle smile on his face.

“Of course, love. You can tell me whenever you want, as I said, there is no pressure.” Aziraphale shifted in his armchair, getting a little more comfortable “Would you maybe like me to read another poem to you? Or would you like to read yourself, perhaps?”

Crowley perked up at that, instantly looking a bit more comfortable and interested now.

“I’d like that very much, angel,” he answered, a small but genuine smile on his lips. “I enjoyed the poems a lot. They’re… They’re very different from stories, but not in a, in a bad way. Thank you for reading them to me.”

Aziraphale smiled gently, taking the poetry collection from the coffee table. “you’re welcome, love. I enjoy poetry as well and I’m glad to hear that it’s also something that interests you. If you ever want to, please feel free to take any book of poetry – or any book at all - and read it whenever you’d like.”

Crowley nodded and crossed his legs, also making himself a little more comfortable, much like Aziraphale had. The angel busied himself with choosing a poem that he though the demon might enjoy. He had already read Sarah William’s one, which Crowley had obviously liked very much, and the angel flipped through the pages, trying to find another one the demon might appreciate.

Poetry was special, Crowley was right. To Aziraphale, poetry was oftentimes better at conveying emotions than novels were, and poems could express things in a way novels simply weren’t able to. Poems were more personal, Aziraphale thought, more realistic and genuine. He enjoyed them on an entirely different level than novels.

Clearing his throat, Aziraphale shifted, trying to concentrate on the task at hand. He flipped through a few more pages before settling on a poem he had first read a couple years ago. It was rather simple, rather short, but ever since the angel had read it for the first time, it had stuck with him.

“This is called _In Neglect_ , by Robert Frost. It’s one of the shorter ones.”

Aziraphale cleared his throat once more, shifting one last time, and then started reading, his voice automatically softening.

“ _They leave us so to the way we took,_  
_As two in whom they were proved mistaken,_  
_That we sit sometimes in the wayside nook,_  
_With mischievous, vagrant, seraphic look,_  
_And_ try _if we cannot feel forsaken._ ”

He enjoyed reading the poem, savouring every single word. It was one of Aziraphale’s favourites, for it was, although simple, impactful and always left him with a sense of nostalgia. Aziraphale closed the book softly when he had finished reading, a satisfied smile on his lips. He had entirely forgotten how much he loved the poem and was delighted that he now had the opportunity to revisit some of his old favourites.

Opposite to him, Crowley sat up. He looked relaxed, much more comfortable with his surroundings than he had been earlier, when Aziraphale had asked him about the park.

“Did you like it?”

Crowley’s answer was a soft, almost shy grin.

“I did, angel. It was… It was really different than the others, but I enjoyed it a lot. Thank you.” Crowley paused for a moment, as if to collect his thoughts, before speaking up again. “I… The poem has something sad to it. Or,” he frowned, biting his lip slightly, “nostalgic. It’s nostalgic.” Crowley hummed, as if to affirm his words, before he shook his head, blinking twice, as if he had just now realised where he was and who he was talking to.

Before he could apologise for ‘speaking out of turn’, like Aziraphale feared he was about to do, the angel quickly answered Crowley’s statement.

“It’s interesting that you’d feel that way, I would interpret the poem similarly. It is a lovely piece of poetry, and I’m happy that you liked it as well. As I said, it is by Robert Frost – I have got an entire collection of his poems, and if you would like to, you can read it whenever you want. The same applies to all the other books, of course, like I said earlier.”

A small smile spread over Crowley’s face at that, and he nodded, his eyes flickering towards the bookshelves.

“Thank you, angel. That is very kind of you and I’m grateful for you offer. Thank you for reading me the poems as well – I… I didn’t know poetry could be so beautiful. Thank you for sharing that with me.”

Crowley sounded so earnest, so honest and probably the most daring and confident Aziraphale had heard him be since he had first met Crowley. The knowledge that something he cherished and loved could also help and please Crowley warmed the angel’s heart.

 “You’re welcome, love. I’m happy you enjoy the poems, and as I said – you can borrow any of my poetry collections whenever you’d like to. I think I will read for a while longer; would you like to join me?”

To Aziraphale’s surprise – and pride – Crowley shook his head at the question, albeit carefully and while watching the angel closely for a negative reaction.

“I… I think I’d rather go up to my room, if that is alright with you, angel. Of course, if you’d prefer that I stay…”

“It’s fine,” interrupted Aziraphale gently, not wanting to make Crowley doubt himself and his decision, “you can do as you wish. If you’d like to go upstairs, please do so, you have no obligation towards me.”

Crowley nodded at that, his face taking on a determined look. He jerked his chin in the direction of the stairs, getting up from the armchair slowly.

“Then I’ll just… the I’ll just go to my room. Thank you, angel. For everything. For the planetary system and the poetry and _everything_. I am incredible grateful for all the things you’ve done for me.”

Crowley took a few quick steps forward, while Aziraphale was still thinking of an appropriate way to react to Crowley’s – frankly, rather moving words – and before the angel could even utter a single syllable, Crowley had already laid his arms around Aziraphale’s shoulders, holding him light enough for the touch to barely register.

A second later, Crowley already removed his arms, too quickly for the angel to reciprocate the hug, and he stepped back, a small blush on his face.

“I’ll just- I’ll go now,” he said, studiously avoiding Aziraphale’s eyes, “but thank you, angel. For everything.”

Aziraphale merely managed a weak “You’re welcome,” with a voice crack right in the middle of the sentence, still positively surprised, shocked by the hug. The last few days, Crowley had been initiating hugs and physical contact in general much more often than Aziraphale was used to, and it made a warm, happy feeling spread in the angel’s stomach. It was a sign of just how far Crowley had come, a sign that he felt comfortable enough around Aziraphale to not fear touching him anymore, and that spoke volumes of the immense progress Crowley had already made.

Aziraphale hoped with all his heart that the progress would only continue.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then,” he said as collected as possible, coughing once, “good night, love.”

Crowley ducked his head. “Good night, angel. Sleep well.”

And with that, he turned, making his way upstairs quickly.

\----

Crowley opened his window as soon as he had entered his room, relishing he cold air that hit his face. He took a long, deep breath, looking out on the street. It was late in the evening, almost night already, but there were still quite a few people walking around, occupied by their own lives and their own problems.

In few days, maybe _Crowley_ would be one of those people, walking around on the streets, outside of the flat. Crowley took another deep breath and released the air slowly, thinking about the offer Aziraphale had made him before the angel had read the last – incredibly beautiful - poem.

Going out, leaving the flat, exposing himself to people, to the _outside world_ , it was a concept that made Crowley’s head spin.

He hadn’t left a Master’s quarters in thousands of years, since normally, his Masters guarded him jealously and did not want to expose him to anyone else, much less the probably dozens of people Crowley and Aziraphale would meet if they were to take a walk through the park.

Crowley wasn’t sure how to feel about Aziraphale’s offer. He _knew_ that the angel didn’t mean harm by it, he knew that Aziraphale would not mind, would not get angry, if Crowley declined his offer (and that thought still made the demon feel slightly thrown, made him feel as if he had  missed a step, because this certainty that a _Master_ wouldn’t hurt him was still something he wasn’t used to even in the slightest) but there was still the part of Crowley that told him to always obey the angel’s wishes, to always do whatever he wanted.

Crowley sighed quietly. The thought of leaving the flat made him feel anxious and vulnerable. He would be in a situation he had never been in and he had not a clue of how to act around humans or of what Aziraphale would expect from him. Leaving the flat would put him in an unfamiliar situation and therefore in the position of vulnerability he loathed so much.

But at the same time, the thought of being allowed to _leave_ , being allowed to leave his Master’s quarters, was exhilarating and completely new. None of his previous Masters would have even _thought_ of allowing Crowley this much freedom and the mere idea of being free in such a way, of not being contained in this flat, made Crowley’s skin prickle with excitement.

It wasn’t that he disliked the flat ~~or even disliked living with Aziraphale~~ , but Crowley had never seen anything else on Earth but Aziraphale’s apartment, and he couldn’t deny that there was a certain curiosity, a certain hunger for experiencing new things in him. For experiencing the outside world.

Crowley rested his head on the windowsill for just a moment, allowing himself to take a few more deep breaths. He wasn’t sure what to do, he wasn’t sure how to decide. On one hand, he wanted to go outside, the possibility of having that much freedom making Crowley feel drunk on happiness and excitement. On the other hand, however, it was a frightening and entirely unfamiliar situation that would await him were he to leave the flat.

The demon bit his lip. He didn’t know what to do, simply couldn’t decide. The fear of the unknown was just as strong as the desire to experience something new and Crowley was already exhausted from all the events of today. It had been a taxing day, though a good one, for the most part.

Almost every day with Aziraphale had been a good day so far, Crowley thought, looking back on the past few months. Aziraphale was beyond kind, an interesting and fascinating person, so unlike everyone else Crowley had ever known. Aziraphale was patient, the demon thought, and he had said that Crowley could take as much time as he needed with his decision. He would risk it, Crowley decided, he would risk not giving Aziraphale a final answer tonight. He would answer him tomorrow, after having slept. Crowley had heard that sleep was supposed to make decision making easier, and maybe that would also be the case for him.

Crowley didn’t go to bed instantly, however. Instead, he stood by the window for a little while longer, looking out on the people walking the streets below him, and repeating part of one of the poems Aziraphale had read to him today:

_Though my soul may set in darkness, it will rise in perfect light;_  
_I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I should currently not leave my house due to Covid-19, I will at least let those two explore the streets a little. :) Also, Crowley really is becoming more comfortable!! He’s making a lot of progress.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed!
> 
> Please stay all safe and healthy!!


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT: Formatting is fixed!
> 
> Another chapter! This is very soft and I really do hope you'll like it. Crowley's still doing a lot of progress! The next chapter should come a bit sooner, as I have already started writing it, but it'll be somewhat on the shorter side. :)
> 
> However, from what I have planned right now, this story will have at the very least have 8 - 10 more chapters and I'm really excited for certain points in Crowley's recovery. And of course, the ending, which I have finally fully planned out. You're in for an interesting ride!
> 
> Enjoy!!!

The next day, Crowley awoke earlier than usual. He turned in bed, opening his eyes slowly, only to be greeted by the sight of his planetary system, gorgeous and colourful on his nightstand. Crowley smiled, taking a few second to simply admire it.

He got out of bed but didn’t exit his room immediately, like he usually did. Instead he sat down at the desk, stroking a finger over the begonia’s leaves. The plant was still beautiful, blossoming, and it added a nice, homely touch to the room. 

Keeping one hand cupped around the plant’s pot as if to steady himself, Crowley leaned forward so that he could look out of the window. The streets beneath him were less busy than yesterday, fewer people walking around and going about their days. It was too early still, Crowley supposed. In a few hours, the amount of people would probably increase quickly. 

And maybe, Crowley would be among them. So far, the demon still hadn’t decided whether to accept Aziraphale’s incredibly generous (if frightening) offer of going outside. He hadn’t ever been around humans, but from what he had Gabriel and the other angels say, they were dumb, almost useless creatures. Of course not _entirely_ useless – after all, claiming that would have been an offending the Almighty herself and not even Gabriel would have dared to do that. 

But still, from what Crowley had gathered from his previous Masters, the humans were unlikely to be a threat to him, taking their lesser intelligence and strange worldviews into account – at least according to Gabriel. Nevertheless, the thought of being around so many people at once, in a situation entirely out of his control, made Crowley feel uneasy. He hated being in larger crowds, for it meant that much more eyes were focussed on him and fleeing or lessening any harm that might come his way would be much harder.

On the other hand, Crowley debated silently, his grip on the pot tightening as he did so, going outside, seeing something else than just his Master’s flat was an opportunity he had never had before. Aziraphale was beyond kind for offering, and something in Crowley yearned for the experience.

It could be glorious, Crowley thought, an opportunity to surround himself with things he normally never would have a chance to, gathering new experiences, knowledge. It would almost be like an adventure, Crowley thought with the barest hint of a smile. An adventure he never would have been able to experience had he been given to anyone but Aziraphale. It would be beyond stupid not to take the chance.

Crowley took a deep breath, releasing the plant slowly. He had decided, a quick but not an easy decision. He would say yes, he would go outside. It could be heaven or it could be hell, Crowley thought with a smile, and even though he had been tortured by both angels and demons, he still wanted to try.

\---

Aziraphale looked up in surprise when he heard Crowley coming down the stairs almost an hour earlier than usually. The angel knew that Crowley valued his sleep – something he himself had never quite gotten behind, but as long as it made Crowley happy, he was happy, too. But seeing Crowley up already came as a surprise, and Aziraphale put his book aside, frowning.

Had the demon not been able to sleep? Was he maybe still thinking about Aziraphale’s outburst from yesterday, the terrible assumption the angel had made about why Crowley had offered his help? Aziraphale still felt guilty whenever he thought about it. He shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions, and even though he had already apologised, and Crowley had accepted the apology, he still felt as if he hadn’t done enough to do right by the demon. 

Aziraphale didn’t have time to contemplate that particular issue any longer since by now, Crowley had entered the living room, standing a few feet away from Aziraphale’s armchair, waiting for a few moments before taking a seat. He was chewing on his bottom lip, seemingly nervous and his eyes flitted from the bookshelves to Aziraphale and back again.

“Did you sleep well?”

Crowley nodded, his posture relaxing a little at the familiar question. 

“I did, thank you. How are you? Did you sleep?”

Aziraphale shook his head with a smile, the same answer he always gave. “I didn’t, but I finished an excellent book I’ve been meaning to re-read for a while. Would you maybe like to read or let me read to you?”

Over the past week or so, a routine had established itself – after Crowley woke up he would come downstairs to Aziraphale, the two of them talking for a while and then, they would read for some time, either separately or Aziraphale would read aloud. The angel greatly enjoyed this routine, and he got the impression that Crowley did, too.

Today, however, the demon shook his head. He opened his mouth as if to say something but remained silent for another few seconds before speaking.

“I thought about… about your offer from yesterday, angel, about the park. I think I would like to. Accompany you outside, I mean. Thank you for offering it to me.”

Crowley ducked his head after he had finished, and a smile broke out over Aziraphale’s face.

“Thank you for telling me, dear! I’d be delighted if you joined me! Do you have any preferences as when to go? Today would be a beautiful day, since the weather is unusually nice, but any other day should be just as well.”

Crowley shook his head, throwing a quick glance outside the window. It _was_ a beautiful day, sunshine with only a few clouds in the sky. If Crowley decided to go out today, Aziraphale could probably also arrange it that comparatively few people would be outdoors. Maybe a stroll through the park would be nice, they could choose the paths usually very few people used and if the need arose, Aziraphale could still… convince them to go elsewhere with a little bit of magic. 

Crowley shook his head, biting his lip again.

“I would like today, angel. If it’s alright with you, of course. If you’d prefer another day-“

“Today is absolutely fine, darling,” hushed Aziraphale the demon gently, not wanting to have him worry for longer than necessary. “The weather is gorgeous, as I said, and I’ve wanted to enjoy the sun for some time, anyways. Is there anywhere specific you would like to go or is a simple walk through the park alright with you? It’s what I usually do when I go out, and it is easy to find paths were less people are.”

Crowley perked up at that, seemingly intrigued. “I would like the park, angel. I’ve never, I’ve never been outside on Earth before so I can’t really imagine it, but from what I’ve heard, it sounds beautiful. I,” and his voice got quieter again, the demon ducking his head, “I would like to see the park, if you allowed me.”

Aziraphale felt his smile grow even bigger. It never ceased to fill him with joy and pride when Crowley asked for something, at the fact that those instances had only accumulated over the past few weeks made his heart swell. 

“I’d love to show you the park. It has beautiful flowers and there is a pond of ducks which I think you could enjoy. We could bring some bread to feed them, that might be nice. When would you like to go? In the afternoon or before lunch?”

Aziraphale knew that he was being a bit too enthusiastic, maybe, but he couldn’t help himself. Walk through the park always lifted his spirits and the thought of a walk with Crowley by his side was an extremely pleasing one. Luckily, Crowley didn’t seem to mind his enthusiasm, merely ducked his head as he replied, not quite looking Aziraphale in the eyes.

“Before lunch, angel, if that would be alright for you. I just… I haven’t been outside of a Master’s quarters in a long time, and I this is the first time I have ever been on Earth. I don’t- I’m not used to people and…”

Crowley trailed off, apparently unsure how to continue his sentence, looking a bit uncomfortable and still avoiding Aziraphale’s eyes. The angel’s face softened.

“That should be no problem, my dear boy. I don’t prefer when it’s too many people around, either, and I’m certain that we should find some paths without too many people – or any at all. If necessary, I can still help things along, after all,” added Aziraphale with a small smile, Crowley hesitantly smiling back.

“Well then, my dear boy, was there anything special you wanted to do before we go? Would you like me to read to you again or would you want to do something else entirely?”

Crowley shook his head.

“I’d like to read a little, angel, if that would be alright for you?”

Aziraphale nodded with a smile, lifting his own book.

“That’s absolutely fine! I have a few more chapters to go, as well.”

Crowley once more smiled at him – something he was doing more and more often, these days – and got up to get himself his cookbook.

\--

Time passed quickly, and before they noticed, two hours had gone by. Crowley had just finished the last recipe in the “Vegetarian” section, having marked a few which he would like to cook for Aziraphale one day, when the angel got up, stretching a little.

“I think we could go now, couldn’t we?” asked the angel, throwing a glance at the clock. Crowley nodded, fighting to keep a smile off his face. While there still was an underlying uneasiness, a nervousness, he couldn’t deny that he also was excited for their walk, for the new experience.

Before Aziraphale’s offer yesterday, he wouldn’t even have thought about going outside, but now that it had become a very real possibility, the idea was tempting. He was eager for the new experience, the novelty of entire situation, for reasons he couldn’t quite explain. It felt like a gift that had been handed to him, one he hadn’t even know he had wanted, but now that he had it, he also never wanted to let go of again.

Crowley followed Aziraphale to the front door, watching as the angel took a coat from the hanger and put on his shoes. That was something he hadn’t even thought about – he himself had no shoes, no coat, why would he? He had never needed them before and his previous Masters never would have given him anything that could have been seen as a “luxury item” in any way, such as a coat, for example.

Before Crowley could say anything – not that he would have known _what_ to say, and how to phrase it not to sound demanding or out-of-line – Aziraphale had already turned around to him, a somewhat guilty look on his face.

“I’m so sorry! I entirely forgot that you don’t have any other clothes! We could try and see if any of mine fit you, but I doubt it, especially with the shoes. And it’s much nicer to have your own clothing, anyways. I could conjure some for you, if you’d like?”

Crowley shook his head, already opening his mouth to tell the angel that it wouldn’t be necessary, only to realise that it indeed _would_ be necessary. Going outside without a coat he might still manage, since it was rather sunny, but taking a walk without shoes would prove a bit difficult. And Aziraphale was right – while his coats might be a bit big on the demon, Crowley could still wear them, but there was no way he would fit into the angel`s shoes.

Crowley felt his hands begin to sweat. He didn’t want Aziraphale to have to conjure clothing just for him, but if they were to go outside, there was no other option. But asking that of the angel would not only be incredibly demanding but it would also mean that Crowley would owe him for yet another kindness, another debt Crowley could never even hope to pay off. There had been so many instances when Aziraphale had done something for Crowley that the demon would never properly be able to thank him for, much less pay off his debt, and this would only add another item to the ever-growing list.

Crowley looked up again from where he had been focussing on his hands, about to voice his thoughts, Aziraphale’s expression was soft. The angel spoke before he could, his voice kind but firm, dissolving Crowley’s worries and hesitancy.

“I’ll conjure something for you. If you want to and it would make you feel better, you could cook something for dinner in exchange. _Not_ because you would owe me, but as an exchange – so that both of us have done something to help the other. Would that be alright with you?”

Crowley felt the knot in his chest loosen, nodding in relief. It was a good offer, even though he still felt a little uncomfortable having the angel do something for _him._ It was clear, however, that Aziraphale did not want a repeat of yesterday’s situation – or how he had viewed it, at least – and strangely enough, Crowley did not mind the angel’s solution.

Cooking for Aziraphale as an exchange rather than a debt paid off sounded like a somewhat strange concept but one Crowley could get behind, nevertheless. It would be like the meal yesterday, only that Aziraphale had proposed the idea, not Crowley, which made it feel a little strange, unfamiliar. It was an unusual solution and a meal would probably not enough to pay Aziraphale back, but Crowley couldn’t very well decline the angel’s offer. And to be quite honest, he had to admit that he liked the solution as well – even though he wouldn’t have the audacity to say so out loud, of course.

Therefore, he agreed, feeling himself relax fully when Aziraphale beamed at him.

“Thank you. Do you have any preferences as what to wear? I have been told before that my style is ‘out of fashion’, and while I entirely disagree, I imagine that something else than my style of clothing would suit you better. Do you have any preferences?”

Crowley shook his head. “Whatever you think is best, angel.”

He _meant_ it, Crowley realised after a heartbeat. He honestly would not mind Aziraphale choosing his clothes for him. Previous Masters – especially Michael – had occasionally liked to ‘dress him up’, usually choosing clothing specifically to humiliate him. He had hated it then, had loathed whatever they had chosen because it had made him feel cheap and worthless, but for some reason, he didn’t even feel a hint of uncomfortableness right now, nothing but a small hint of apprehension at the new situation. He _trusted_ Aziraphale no to pick something designed to make him feel terrible, nor something that would make him look ‘alluring’, as Gabriel had often called it with a disgusting, sickening smile.

Neither sounded like something Aziraphale would do, Crowley thought with no small amount of surprise at the trust he was putting in the angel. While the angel’s clothing might actually be a little out of fashion, at least judging from what Crowley had seen the people outside his window wear, he did not fear that Aziraphale would put him in clothes like Michael and Gabriel had.

The thought probably would not even occur to the angel, Crowley thought helplessly as he watched Aziraphale frown in concentration. He felt a little thrown by all the thoughts he had just had, by all the _trust_ ; he was putting in Aziraphale in regards to the clothing, but the demon didn’t get a chance to analyse his feelings any further when he felt a cold, prickling sensation on his back and arms.

It wasn’t uncomfortable, simply surprising, and Crowley looked down, taking in the black jacket that had appeared, as well as the shoes that were now on his feet.

“I didn’t know that this would be what would come out if this, but I must say, it suits you!”

Aziraphale sounded happy, and when Crowley looked back up at him, the angel was smiling, his hands clasped together in front of his chest.

“It’s a leather jacket,” explained the angel, “not something I would ever wear and also not quite what I had in mind, but it definitely suits you. Do you feel comfortable? Does it fit you or is it too big on you?”

“It fits,” said Crowley, a small smile on his lips. “Thank you, angel.”

The jacket was very comfortable, the material felt sturdy as he ran a hand over the sleeves, and it was a little warmer than he had expected. He told Aziraphale as much and the angel smiled, opening the door.

“Well, then we can go, yes? Or is there something we forgot?”

Crowley shook his head and quickly stepped through the door before Aziraphale when the angel indicated him to do so. He watched as Aziraphale hung a Do-Not-Disturb Sign on the shop’s door, not yet turning his back and facing the street.

Outside. He was _outside_ , on Earth, none the less. It was louder than he had anticipated, the sound of people and cars no longer muffled by the shop’s windows, and Crowley took a few seconds to simply get used to the noise. 

When Aziraphale had finished locking the door, Crowley turned around, taking in the outside world for the first time. There were a lot of people, at least to Crowley, most of them walking alone, the majority hurrying. Many were on their phones, a few walking their dogs, some with children.

Aziraphale stepped up next to Crowley, a bit closer than he normally would. At first, the demon tensed but he forced himself to relax again. He let Aziraphale lead him through the mass of people to the park, now glad for their closeness, as it meant that he wouldn’t lose sight of him. The closer they got to the park the fewer people were around them and Crowley felt a bit of the tension fall of when they had finally reached it.

He had been following Aziraphale’s brisk walk quietly, overwhelmed by everything he was seeing, hearing and feeling. The walk hadn’t taken long at all, only a few minutes and now that they had reached the park, the angel stopped, an apologetic look on his face. 

“I’m sorry that I hurried so much, but I don’t particularly enjoy large crowds. The park should be a bit quieter, though. Are you alright? Was that too overwhelming?”

Aziraphale looked worried, touching Crowley’s shoulder gently, and the demon shook his head.

“I’m fine, thank you. There were more people than I expected, but I am fine. Thank you for asking, angel.”

Aziraphale smiled gently and stepped aside, letting Crowley go through the park’s gates first.

“Would you like to simply wander around a little and then maybe visit the duck pond? It’s the most beautiful part and usually quiet, since not many people tend to feed the ducks here.”

Crowley nodded in response, falling into step next to Aziraphale and together, they went to one of the larger paths, avoiding the other strollers as much as possible. There weren’t as many people around as Crowley had feared, and the majority kept to themselves, not getting too close Crowley and Aziraphale, only very few coming close enough to make Crowley tense up at their proximity.

After a while, Crowley got used enough to the situation to actually take in the park, looking around attentively, still walking close to Aziraphale. The park was _beautiful._. The air was warm, and Crowley could hear birds singing from the trees. The grass around the paths looked gorgeous, a lush green and every once in a while, here were small flowerbeds in the grass. 

The first time they walked past one, Crowley stopped, too struck by the flowers’ variety in colour. He had not even noticed that he had stopped walking and tensed when Aziraphale positioned himself next to him, sure that the angel would be angry that his walk had been interrupted. However, Aziraphale merely gave a small smile and led Crowley a bit closer to the flowers, avoiding a couple that was coming their way.

“They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” asked the angel. “Those are pansies. Flowerbeds such as this are all over the park – if you want, we can visit a few.”

Crowley looked up at Aziraphale, eyes wide. The flowers were indeed gorgeous, just like the trees and bushes in the park, but the flowers stood out to him especially. Seeing more sounded like a dream, but Crowley knew that his dreams only very rarely turned into reality, and if they did, it was more often his nightmares than anything else.

But Aziraphale looked so open, so honest. Crowley remembered how he had read to him yesterday, how he had conjured clothes specially for him, Crowley, and the small thought that had been lurking in the back of his mind - that the angel’s offer was just a trick to make him feel safe and to collect offences Crowley could later be punished for - vanished. 

“I’d like that, angel. Thank you. They really are beautiful, especially the yellow ones.”

Aziraphale smiled and after a few more moments, the two of them continued their walk, slowly making their way through the park, stopping at every flower bed for a few minutes.

Although there was still an underlying current of nerves and Crowley tensed whenever other people passed them, he enjoyed the walk much more than he ever would have thought possible. The park was fascinating to him, with plants and flowers Crowley had never seen before and though they walked mostly in silence, occasionally, Aziraphale would tell a story, anecdotes about the park and Crowley found himself listening eagerly. 

He was almost _relaxed_ , Crowley noticed with a certain amount of surprise and an odd hint of pride. The tension he usually felt had lessened, the warm weather and nature around him doing their job perfectly. It also helped that Aziraphale seemed to be even happier than usually, enjoying their walk tremendously from the looks of it. He was humming softly, a small smile permanent on his face, and whenever he talked to Crowley or told him one story or another, his voice was almost as happy as it usually only was when he was talking about his books.

To Crowley’s immense surprise, the angel did not once show anger or disdain towards the people they met on their walk, not even the ones that got a bit too close of them, one man even pushing Aziraphale out of the way. All the angels Crowley had gotten to know so far – as well as the demons, but that was to be expected – had disliked humans, looking down on them as lesser beings, sometimes even with disgust. Had it not been almost blasphemy, Crowley was sure that Gabriel would have made his dislike toward them clear on more than one occasion. From what Cowley had gathered, humans were an annoyance at best and entirely despicable at worst – at least to the angels Crowley had served.

Aziraphale, however, did not seem to think that way. He smiled at most of the people they passed, even greeting a couple of them, and when a young girl let her toy fall to the ground on accident, instead of sneering at her like Crowley imagined Gabriel would have, Aziraphale picked it up, even miracling it clean again. 

The angel’s behaviour was nothing like Crowley had thought it would be, and it was fascinating to watch. They had been in the park for a while now, when Crowley noticed that they were encountering fewer people than before, their paths now almost entirely void of them. After a while, even the few encounters they had, stopped, and after a few more minutes of walking in silence, it became apparent why.

Aziraphale and Crowley had reached the duck pond the angel had told Crowley of. It was a rather large pond in the middle of one of the bigger patches of grass, with a few ducks swimming on it. 

For a few moments, Crowley could do nothing but stare at it, not even following Aziraphale, who had begun walking towards one of the benches near the pond. It was entirely unfamiliar but beautiful in a way that was different from the flowers and meadows Crowley had seen so far. It seemed peaceful almost, quiet except for the quacking of the ducks. 

After a few more seconds, Crowley managed to tear himself away, hurrying over to where Aziraphale, who had been watching him with a mildly curious look on his face, sat. 

“Do you like it, dear?”

Crowley nodded quickly; his eyes still fixed on the pond. He knew that he should be looking at the angel, knew that Michael or Gabriel would already have punished him for answering without looking at them, but he could not tear his eyes away. Watching the ducks was fascinating, seeing how they bobbed up and down on the water in search of food under water. It occurred to Crowley that those ducks were one of the first animals Crowley had seen in person and up close since Eden.

Aziraphale smiled at the demon, leaning back on the bench, and explained, with a small hand gesture towards the pond:

“This is one of my favourite places in the park. It’s so peaceful and I like simply watching the ducks. It’s a nice spot for reading, too.”

Crowley nodded again, now looking at Aziraphale, a small smile on his face.

“It’s beautiful. The whole park is. Thank you for letting me see it, angel. Thank you for taking me here, it really is beautiful. Especially the flowerbeds and the pond.”

Aziraphale smiled gently. 

“You’re welcome, love. I’m happy that you enjoy it here – the park is one of my favourite places to go to, and I enjoy the pond, as well. I hope the people haven’t been too much for you? I tried to avoid them for the last part of our walk, but I don’t know if I was all that successful with that.”

Crowley shook his head, fighting to keep the small smile that was beginning to form off his face.

“Well, then,” said Aziraphale, leaning back on the bench before reaching in his coat pocket, taking out a small bag, “I brought some bread, in case you wanted to feed the ducks. I know you’re not supposed to feed them with bread since it fills them up without having any nutritional value, but that’s something easily fixed by a quick miracle.”

Crowley accepted a few of the small pieces of bread with an uncertain smile, just holding them for a few moments, trying not to let his bewilderment and surprise show. Aziraphale was using one of his miracles simply for the _duck_ They were not even humans, couldn’t even _talk_ ; and yet, the angel was worried enough about them that he used his powers to take care of them, to ensure that somehow, they wouldn’t end up harmed from eating too much bread.

The thought of caring about animals, about _ducks_ , wouldn’t even have been entered Michael’s or Gabriel’s thoughts, not in their wildest dreams. But seeing Aziraphale do it so naturally, in passing almost, made a warm and gentle feeling spread in Crowley’s stomach that he couldn’t even begin to explain.

Shaking himself out of his thoughts, he hesitantly took one of the breadcrumbs, throwing them in the direction of the ducks like Aziraphale was doing. He watched as it landed within a small distance of one of the ducks, and the duck picked it up with its beak, swallowing it. 

Aziraphale smiled at him when he saw it, and Crowley felt a sudden rush of pride go through him. He squashed the feeling almost as soon as it had appeared – pride wasn’t for him, he had nothing to be proud of because he _was_ nothing, and how could someone like him ever accomplish anything at all – and busied himself by throwing the next bread crumb, trying not to think about the feeling of pride too much.

Pride was bad, he knew that, it was one of the seven deadly sins, and even though that in and on itself should not have been a problem, rather an accomplishment since he was a demon, it felt entirely wrong to be proud of himself. Had Gabriel even so much as assumed that Crowley in any way felt accomplished or proud, it would have meant Hell for the demon.

Crowley shivered, closing his leather jacket. Luckily, Aziraphale did not seem to notice his uneasiness, merely shot him a slightly confused look and kept feeding the ducks. After a few moments to collect himself, Crowley did the same.

\---

They stayed in the park for a while afterwards, until it got cold enough that Aziraphale wanted to leave. Of course he simply could have conjured warmer clothing, but he was rather looking forward to being home again and he did not want to overwhelm Crowley on his first trip outside by staying too long. 

Their way back was quicker than the first time, Crowley not stopping at every flowerbed anymore, though he did admire them in passing, sometimes looking over his shoulder to catch another glimpse of the flowers. It made Aziraphale smile, Crowley’s unusual – but very welcome – outright admiration of something. Of course the angel knew that he had liked the begonia, but seeing that translate onto other flowers as well was still somewhat surprising. Probably because Aziraphale himself didn’t have the first clue as to what to do with plants. 

But Crowley seemed to enjoy them and that was all that mattered. Crowley had seemed to enjoy the walk as a whole, Aziraphale noted happily. Even though the demon had tensed and shied away whenever other people had approached them (which had also been why Aziraphale had cleared their path to the pond), he had seemed much happier than the angel had ever seen him, with exception of when he had received and build the planetary system, as well as when he had gotten the begonia. 

The demon apparently enjoyed being outside, something Aziraphale could very well understand. He himself adored long walks, he liked seeing the smiling faces of people around him, and the park was a beautiful setting for a walk. 

The angel was so lost in thought that he almost didn’t notice when they arrived at the flat again, only stopping because Crowley had. Some of the ease Crowley had felt during the walk had seemingly vanished, the demon now looking at Aziraphale’s shoulder rather than in his eyes, but Aziraphale tried not to mind. He opened the door to his shop with a smile in Cowley’s direction, trying to calm him down as well as he could. 

The demon returned the smile hesitantly as he stepped through the door. He had tensed up again after they had left the park. While the walk had apparently put him at ease, all that had mostly disappeared as soon as they had been back on the street again, where much more people were around, some of them pushing into either Crowley’s or Aziraphale’s personal space rather rudely. The closer the two had gotten to the angel’s flat, the more submissive and nervous habits the demon had dropped during their walk had reappeared, only now they were almost as bad as they had been in the first few weeks of their acquaintance.

Aziraphale tried not to mind that Crowley almost wouldn’t look him in the eyes or ducked his head slightly whenever he dared to look at him. Instead he busied himself with taking off his shoes and coat once they had gotten inside.

Crowley was looking rather lost, Aziraphale noticed when he looked up again, holding both his shoes and his leather jacket in his hands with an uncomfortable expression.

“You can keep hem, if you’d like to,” said the angel, offering a small smile. “I’d ask you to leave the shoes here as not to dirty the living area, but they will remain yours and if you want to, you can take the jacket up in your room. Were the clothes comfortable?”

After clearing his throat, Crowley answered quickly, eyes meeting the angel’s for a quick moment.

“They were very comfortable, angel, thank you a lot. And thank you for letting me, letting me keep them. That is very kind of you.”

Aziraphale smiled in response, walking ahead to the kitchen, Crowley following him closely. 

“You’re welcome, my dear. I’m happy to hear you liked them and if you ever want or need other clothes, just ask me. You can repay me for them, if you really want to – what about maybe cooking again some time? The pasta yesterday was absolutely delicious – you’re a really good cook.”

At that, Crowley blushed ever so slightly, and ducked his head again, clutching the jacket in his hands.

“I’d like that, angel, thank you for letting me. Is there something I could do for you now?”

Aziraphale shook his head, pointing at the stairs with a small smile.

“No, thank you. I’ll go make a quick snack some fruit, I think, and you can put your jacket in your room in the meantime. I’ll call you when I’m done, is that alright with you? I have a small surprise for you if you want it. It’s nothing dangerous or harmful, I promise, just something I thought you’d like that. I’d give it to you after the snack, would that be alright? Of course, if you don’t want it, you can always decline and I promise that I won’t be mad.”

Crowley looked stricken, his eyes quickly darting around the room before settling on Aziraphale’s again. He took a deep breath, seemingly collecting himself, and the nodded, relaxing his shoulders, which had tensed up. 

Aziraphale smiled broadly at him and Crowley returned the smile, if a bit smaller, before making his way towards the stairs.

Aziraphale turned and went to the kitchen, mentally listing whatever fruit he still had there. He probably would have to conjure something.

\---

The rush of excitement from their walk still hadn’t completely left Crowley, though he tried not to let it show. He hadn’t even realised just how much he had let himself relax during their walk through the park. Once they had reached the angel’s flat, Crowley had tried to make up for how open and relaxed he had been during the walk by keeping himself in check and taking on some of the more submissive postures and behaviour he had been trained to adapt whenever he was trying to apologise for something.

Rationally, he knew that he did not need to do so – miraculously, he was almost entirely sure that Aziraphale was not angry with him for relaxing during their walk and at the pond. However, returning to the bookshop, which as lovely as might be was still his Master’s home first and foremost, had resulted in a surprising amount of discomfort that Crowley hadn’t felt in weeks.

Slowly, without him actively noticing or encouraging it, he had begun to be almost _relaxed_ around Aziraphale over the past few days, even weeks. Just how much he had only noticed upon their return to the angel’s flat, when Crowley had tensed up again and had fallen into some more submissive roles earlier Masters had enjoyed. He hadn’t behaved that way in a long time, and to his surprise and discomfort, it had also been harder to return that role.

However, Crowley knew that Aziraphale did not enjoy this sort of behaviour, and he was currently trying to collect himself and return to whatever mindset he had been in during their walk. At the moment, he was putting the leather jacket away, hanging it up in the closet, still marvelling at how it was inexplicably _his_. Now, he had four things in this room he could call his own, only his – the jacket, his cookbook, the begonia and the planetary system, which was still standing on his nightstand, as beautiful as ever.

Looking around his room and taking in all those things calmed Crowley a little and he forced himself to relax again. The angel that was waiting downstairs with a surprise that had made Crowley nervous when Aziraphale had mentioned it earlier. But now that he had time to think rationally about it, in the privacy of his own room, he had to admit that whatever was about to come most likely wouldn’t be bad. It would probably not even hurt or put him in an uncomfortable situation.

Thinking of the past few weeks, of everything Aziraphale had done for him – especially the poems he had read to him yesterday as well as giving him the planetary system – Crowley found himself relaxing even more, now not even consciously having to try to do so.

Part of him – the part that was used to Gabriel’s, Michael’s and Beelzebub’s punishments, still feared whatever was about to come, but a surprisingly large part of Crowley knew that whatever the angel had in store for him would not harm him. On the contrary - it would most likely something he would actually enjoy, since so far, Aziraphale had always put thought into what he had done for and with Crowley.

Crowley had reluctantly begun accepting that Aziraphale wasn’t set out to hurt or humiliate him, and no matter how much Crowley disliked surprises in general, he would not let his fear show or even overcome him.

Taking a deep breath and once more touching his leather jacket – which had been incredibly comfortable – one last time, Crowley exited his room again, trying to remain positive about what was about to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed and that you're all safe and healthy!!


End file.
